


Of Whores and Concubines

by LaughingThalia



Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Betrayal, Concubines, Crusades, Emotionally Repressed, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Honor, Inaccurate Catholicism, Inaccurate Mongol Empire, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Power Imbalance, Rivals to Lovers, Royalty, Season 2 Rewrite, Semi-Public Sex, Team as Family, no spell check we die like mne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29104116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingThalia/pseuds/LaughingThalia
Summary: “My prince.” Marco gasped, “my prince, my prince, my prince.” He repeated it like a matra, hands pulling Jingim’s hair so tight he was sure it must have hurt and yet the prince made no move to complain.“That’s it, just like that, just like that.” Jingim whispered in his ear between kisses, “So beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Marco.”...Jingim doesn't talk about his feelings, Marco knows how he feels, right?Marco doesn't know how he feels.All he knows is that the royals in Cambulat seem to have more concubines than necessary.
Relationships: Ahmad & Prince Jingim (Marco Polo), Empress Chabi & Nergui | Kokachin (Marco Polo), Empress Chabi/Kublai Khan (Marco Polo), Prince Jingim/Marco Polo (Marco Polo), Prince Jingim/Nergui | Kokachin (Marco Polo)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Slender Aphrodite Has Overcome Me

Marco sat alone in the Song throne room, on the steps of the throne. Alone apart from the few guards that milled about although none of them acknowledged him or his presence. The whole left side of his body hurt from when he had fought Jia Sidao and in between all his other duties, Hundred Eyes has not been able to do any acupuncture techniques to relieve the tightness in his side.

He was so lost in thought, tiredly rubbing his neck, that he didn’t notice another figure enter until they were right in front of him. “Prince Jingim!” Marco almost exclaimed, standing up to bow.

The prince stopped his ascent with a hand, “Forget the formalities for now Polo.” He smiled down at the younger man. Jingim turned to the few guards around “Leave us.” They filed out in an orderly formation, no doubt to stand guard outside. “The Song throne room is quite a sight to behold is it not?”

“It is very beautiful. I’ve never seen another throne room before, it’s quite different from the Khan’s.”

“It has a similar throne.” he paused, “And of course, this is the Khan’s too thanks to you Marco.” Jingim’s own arm was in a sling, his shoulder still injured from when he’d been hit by the black powder canon. “I heard you fought The Cricket Minister.” He sounded impressed.

Marco scoffed, “I wouldn’t call it a fight.” He rubbed his neck slowly, “He incapacitated me with two fingers.”

“Don’t feel bad, even Hundred Eyes struggled with him.” Jingim climbed the two steps to the throne and sat down almost gingerly before pulling his arm out of his sling.

“The healers won’t like that.” Marco remarked as he watched the prince disregard their orders not to use his arm.

“I’m sure it will be fine, relax Polo.” He forced Marco’s head straight ahead again and rubbed his fingers along Marco’s back, digging in in all the places he knows must hurt, massaging the pain of the cricket strikes away.

Marco almost cried in relief, the healers had been busy with all the stab wounds and black powder injuries and so he had been pushed to the back of the line, forcing him to struggle around all day with his side pulsing with an invisible pain until just then, Jingim’s hands all over him. Marco couldn’t help the sighs of relief that escaped his mouth, couldn’t help the way he melted in Jingim’s grip.

“I owe you an apology Marco.”

“No my prince…”

“I do, for many things. For questioning your loyalty, for almost sending you to your death. But mostly for letting my jealousy get the better of me.”

“Jealousy?” Marco asked in disbelief before he could think of a more polite way to phrase the question.

“My father trusts you. I’ve never seen one of my father’s playthings rise through the court so quickly.”

A year ago Marco would have objected to being called a play thing. But he knew his place, as much as he tried to be useful to the Khan he knew that’s what he was, a play thing. A European novelty until he had outgrown his usefulness or else they all got bored of him. Even when Byamba had called him friend and Jingim had called him brother he knew he was still just a play thing of the court. He almost wasn’t surprised when Jingim slipped down off the throne to the step directly behind him. His massage transforming into more an exploration of his body, hands slipping into the loose flaps of his shirt, the rope holding it all together coming undone by the Prince’s hands.

Marco considered the situation as Jingim’s lips found their way to his neck. He liked Jingim, he found the other man pretty, with his flowing black locks and his shining golden visage. It had taken him a while for him to recognise the attraction he held for the prince but once he had, he had forced it down a mixture of Catholic guilt and the need to not overstep his boundaries in the court telling him not to dwell on it, not to mention up until this moment Jingim had hated him. And now here he was kissing Marco’s neck and running his hands all over his chest.

He’d had sex before. Admittedly he’d only had sex with women, Mongol women at that, but he figured it couldn’t be too different. Jingim’s lips found their way to Marco’s turning his head so that their lips could meet, after a moment of kissing, Jingim pulled him up and pushed him into the Song throne. Marco’s eyes widened, he was pretty sure it was illegal for him to sit here but before he could say as much Jingim had straddled him and enveloped his mouth in another hot kiss.

Marco couldn’t help but think he kissed like he fought, the need to dominate absolutely present in the way his tongue searched every recess of his mouth, his teeth leaving soft bites on his lips in a way that no one had ever done before but made his toes curl. Marco felt the blood rush south as he found his hands tangled in Jingim’s hair. It wasn’t tied up or in braids and Marco revelled in how smooth and silky it was, how it made the perfect hand hold to keep him grounded in the here and now with the prince on top of him kissing him like it was his mission to steal the air from Marco’s lungs.

Marco felt Jingim’s own hard member press up against him and they broke the kiss just long enough for Jingim to position his leg between Marco’s thigh and Marco’s thigh between his legs. He kissed him again as he started rutting back and forth, the friction driving them both insane, the added exertion made breathing and kissing hader so they broke away, the only sound in the room their rough and broken pants. Marco threw his head back and the prince took the opportunity to bury his face in his neck. He found the Europa interesting, he’d never seen someone like him and thought him beautiful from the first time he’d shown up in the throne room, scare out of his mind, on his knees before the Khan, he’d look at his almost blond curls and his eyes the colour of the sea and his pale skin and thought that that was beauty was. “Marco.” He groaned aloud before remembering the guards just outside the door, he kissed a line down the Latin’s neck and then bit a spot, determined to leave a mark on the perfect pale expanse of skin. Jia Sidao had hurt him here, taken him down and almost killed him just with his spot alone and there was something about Marco trusting him enough to allow his teeth to his jugular that made Jingim feel so lightheaded.

“My prince.” Marco gasped, “my prince, my prince, my prince.” He repeated it like a matra, hands pulling Jingim’s hair so tight he was sure it must have hurt and yet the prince made no move to complain as he ravaged Marco’s throat. Marco couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as Jingim bit down particularly hard and he suddenly found Jingim’s hand on his mouth as he stopped anymore overly loud sounds getting out. 

Marco’s hips stuttered and shook against Jingim’s and he could feel his climax building, one hand leaving Jingim’s hair and grabbing the armrest of the throne to steady himself. “Fuck.” He mumbled against Jingim’s hand, the sound thoroughly muffled.

“That’s it, just like that, just like that.” Jingim whispered in his ear between kisses, “So beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Marco.”

Marco’s climax hit him with a yelp of surprise, it has torn out of him without anticipation and he had been left a mess, rutting up into Jingim’s thigh like an animal in heat, Jingim wasn’t too far behind his thrusts becoming an uneven rhythm before following Marco over the edge. Both coming as silently as they could manage into their trousers.

They were left for a few moments panting into each other’s ears and Jingim slumped on top of him. Slowly he climbed off of him, pulling Marco up with him. “We should probably go before one of the guards gets suspicious.”

“I-” Marco wanted to ask what had just happened, what that had meant but he did have a point about the guards, they didn’t exactly have the time to talk. “Yes. You’re right my Prince.”

They both try to right their hair and clothes and each grimace as the mess in their pants becomes apparent but don’t speak a word to each other as they redress.

  
Jingim’s always liked the way the Latin said  _ ‘My Prince’ _ the way his foreign accent almost rolled the R, the way the vowels sounded different from his pink lips. “Until tomorrow Latin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping on the Marco Polo train about 6 years too late.


	2. But I Say It Is Whatever You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco could understand one time.  
> Once was heat of the moment, a lapse in judgement, the adrenaline of battle wearing off.  
> Marco didn’t know what to do with twice.  
> The prince never explained anything during these encounters,  
> never laid down the ground rules,  
> never even told him to keep this a secret,  
> he’d just call him beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a Sappho reference just because it popped into my head when I was uploading this chapter. Stan Sappho.

The Khan held a war council the next day when things had settled themselves in the Song. They’d taken control and now the Khan just wanted reports on any growing problems and to hear how everything had gone down in their takeover.

Jingim spoke of the initial attack, his arm safely back in his sling, of the black powder canons and Byamba and Polo’s timely arrival and then handed the story over, he had been hit in the shoulder and his fight had effectively ended there.

Hundred Eyes continued the story of how the small group had all breached the castle and split up. When it was finally Marco’s turned to speak everyone turned to him, “We were a small group so we split up to find people and I found myself in this throne room. I thought it empty at first but the Chancellor was sitting on the Song throne waiting for the Khan’s forces to enter. I gave him a chance to surrender to the Khan but he attacked instead, we fought for a short moment but he is the cricket minister, he administered a series of nerve punches and I was almost incapacitated until Hundred Eyes came in and fought him. As you know Hundred Eyes killed him.”

With that they had all concluded their reports and stories and there was nothing more to say. Marco bowed and went to stand to the side once more but Kublai Khan stopped him, “Polo, what is that on your neck.”

Marco looked confused for a second as his hand instinctively went to his neck. As he felt the dull pain of a bruise he quickly realised that Jingim had given him a hickey high enough that no collar he owned would cover it unless he suddenly started wearing scarves. Marco didn’t want to lie to the Khan and so rather than answer his question directly he simply stated, “I was in a war yesterday.”

The Khan laughed, seeing through his charade easily. “A Song lady would probably be intrigued with a Round Eye.”

Marco blushed as everyone laughed, including Jingim although there was a slight blush on his face too. Marco figured he’d just let them think he had slept with a Song girl, the alternatives would be harder to explain.

Marco hadn’t expected Jingim to turn up in his room the next night, pulling him into a kiss as soon as he had walked into the room. He hadn’t even known the Prince was there so it took him a moment to respond accordingly as he was pushed up against a wall and kissed within an inch of his life. “Marco do you know what it did to me to see you walk around today with that mark on your neck, the whole court-” Jingim cut himself off with a kiss, suddenly overwhelmed by Marco in front of him.

He pushed the Latin over to the bed and straddled him. His hands fiddled with Marco’s belt as he grabbed to free Marco’s dick from its confines and suddenly he was holding Marco in his hand.

He pulled out his own dick, slicking his hand up with some saliva and taking them both in his hand, rubbing them together so he could jerk them both off at once. 

Marco’s heart was beating out of his chest, his blood hot, his skin flushed everywhere his skin touched Jingim’s. He had started singing Jingim’s praises in Italian, unable to keep the presence of mind to actually say things Jingim could fully understand. He clung onto the prince’s back as he carried them both to orgasm, shooting all over Jingim’s hand and Marco’s stomach and leaving them a panting, shivering, shaking mess once more.

The prince had the wherewithal to collapse on Marco’s side and not directly on top of him, waiting for the utterly blissed out feeling to leave his head before leaving, once again not saying a word.

Marco could understand one time. Once was heat of the moment, a lapse in judgement, the adrenaline of battle wearing off. Marco didn’t know what to do with twice. The prince never explained anything during these encounters, never laid down the ground rules, never even told him to keep this a secret, he’d just call him beautiful. He’d addressed him by his first name. No  _ ‘Master Polo’ _ or  _ ‘Latin’ _ or  _ ‘Europa’ _ Marco couldn’t figure him out. He’d hated Marco before, had almost sent him to his death but suddenly one battle had him calling him brother one day and then rutting against him in a way that no brother should the next. He supposed in his heart of hearts, Marco did know what to do with twice. He did know what this was, why the prince never said a word. He’d made it clear before, he was the Khan’s plaything, the Prince could use him how he wanted.

He wondered if this was a demotion, from being in the Khan’s war council’s to becoming the Prince’s whore. Of course if they kept it secret nothing would change about the rest of his job but the Mongols were weirdly open about their sex lives and about their whores. Being a royal concubine was an actual title, not quite one with respect but certainly one with a level of influence and access. The Cricket minister’s sister had been a ‘whore’ and yet her daughter was a princess and she had become an assassin. She had had her hands on the Khan’s head, she could have snapped his neck and no one could have stopped her. He knew what he was to the Prince with three wives and nothing to show for it and yet knowing hurt more.

The pope, the priests, the nuns, every Christian he had ever met believed that men laying with men was a sin. It was easier to tell himself he did this because he had to, because the Prince had ordered it than it was to admit to God that he loved the prince, that he wanted him to be HIS prince. It was easier to be the Prince’s whore when he knew the prince didn’t love him back.


	3. He Seems Like The gods’ Equal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You drink too much. What are you drinking to forget?”
> 
> Marco is silent for a long while and Mei Lin is sure he won’t answer but then he asks her a question of his own that is answer enough, “Is sodomy illegal here?”
> 
> No one had taught Marco the Chinese word for sodomy so he says it in Italian, a switch that causes Mei Lin to turn her head with curiosity, “I do not know this word.”

Marco had been in Asia for quite some time now, he had been with the Khan for half that time and still he didn’t know all the rules and laws and customs. He did not know if men being with men was as wrong here as it was in Venice. He didn’t know if sodomy was frowned on or illegal. He did not know what would happen if people found out, would they laugh and clap the prince on the back like they did when he screwed his wives or his concubines. Would they strip him of his title, make him the laughing stock of the court.

Their little trysts had continued once they’d returned to the capital. The two as thick as thieves during the day going about their business and then at night... He would have continued further if the Khan had not sent him with Mei Lin on a mission to find the boy emperor.

He found himself drinking more than sensible to try and burn away the sensation of the Prince’s hands all over his body. Claiming bad wine every time he threw up even though they both knew it wasn’t. Eventually as the two sat in the darkness of the jungle at night and stoked a flame she gave up and just asked, “What are you so eager to forget?”

“What?”

“You drink too much. What are you drinking to forget?”

Marco is silent for a long while and Mei Lin is sure he won’t answer but then he asks her a question of his own that is answer enough, “Is sodomy illegal here?”

No one had taught Marco the Chinese word for sodomy so he said it in Italian, a switch that caused Mei Lin to turn her head with curiosity, “I do not know this word.”

Marco looked away from her as he clarified, “Men lying with men.”

“Aaah.” She stated, finally understanding his behaviour, she taught him the Chinese word for sodomy rather than answer his question right away, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer. “Ghengis’ laws state that any man who commits sodomy should be put to death.”

“Any man?” Marco frowned, “Even…” he doesn’t go on, probably suspecting whatever qualifiers he admitted to her would give away whatever man had found themselves in Polo’s mind and in Polo’s bed.

“Any man. No exceptions. If Kublai Khan himself committed sodomy he would have to put himself to death.”

She can tell her answer troubles him so she turns away to leave him with his thoughts and cooks them some food on the now well lit fire.

And when they return with the boy and Polo tries to stand up for her, Mei Lin decides to ignore the way the Prince looks at the foreigner and the way Marco keeps his eyes carefully away from him. She decides this is some information, some damning information, that Ahmed doesn’t need. If he wants to overthrow the royal family and become Khan it won’t be because of this.


	4. My Tongue Stiffens Into Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you?”
> 
> “Yes Round eye, I suppose we are friends too.”

Marco doesn’t know what to do now that Jingim is married to Kokachin. Kokachin was his friend, Jingim was his friend of sorts too. They were supposed to be making an heir, Marco felt very much like he was getting in the way of that. He said as much the night he got back from his mission when Jingim was in his room, crowding him against the wall, “Don’t be jealous Marco.” was the only reply he got. He said it almost casually but there was something behind it that told Marco to drop it.

And once again Jingim rubbed them to completion and then left without a word, although this time he pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead before he went. It was oddly intimate. Somehow more intimate than any of the things they’d been doing thus far in the dark under the cover of night, or the new friendship that had formed between them in the eyes of the public, the two of them bandying around together. With Ahmed so busy as Vice Regent and Byamba off with his new fiancé in the old capital Marco had become Jingim’s go-to man friend when he wasn’t with his parents or with Kokochin getting to know his new wife.

The moment Marco had met the couple in the halls had been one of the worst of his life. Kokachin angry at him for not running away with her and all while he stole her husband. Jingim, one of his only friends, unaware that he was friends with his wife. He felt like he was trapped in a jail of lies and feelings. Caught between the sins of the church and the laws of Ghengis. Everyone was telling him it was wrong and yet he couldn’t bring himself to even ask Jingim to stop. If he stopped would he still be useful in the court? If he stopped would Jingim still like him? Would he be reminded that he didn’t need a political rival, a challenger for his father’s affections, he only needed a whore to rub against at night and if Marco wasn’t that, what was he?

  
  


When they sat with Amhed and the Khan to decide the boy emperor’s fate Marco was sure he was distracted by Jingim’s knee brushing against his. Thankfully Jingim and his joint opinions and a word from Chabi stayed the Khan’s hand in ending the boy's life much to Ahmed’s dismay. Marco scowled at the Vice Regent, why was he so upset that they wouldn’t be murdering a four year old? 

Chabi reunited the emperor with Ling Ling and Kokachin watched over them in the gardens during the day while Jingim was busy. She had even found a cricket for the boy emperor to put in the little cage he had carried around since he had had to flee the Song palace. He was not emperor here in these moments, nor was she princess. She was simply a woman playing with two children, dancing with Ling Ling and trying to remind the young boy that he was a young boy and not the emperor he had been forced to be at such a young age.

Marco sometimes sat with her as they plausibly rebuilt their friendship in a way more befitting the Blue Princess. They had apologised to each other for choosing their duty to the Khan over each other, they had forgiven each other. Kokachin was sure Marco wanted to say more to her but whatever else he needed to tell her, he never did, deflecting attention back to the children whenever it weighed too heavily on his mind.

Marco also spoke more to Mei Lin, the two of them sneaking into each other’s rooms between Marco sneaking around with Jingim and Mei sneaking around with Ahmad. Marco asked her once, how she felt about being a royal concubine. She laughed, “It it easier when you have a child with the royal. Although I suppose you can’t pull that trick.”

“What?” Marco gaped, sitting up in a panic from where he’d been lazing.

“It is obvious.”

“It is?”

“To me it is. It doesn’t help that you basically told me when we were on our search that you were committing sodomy with a man who you thought might escape the laws.”

“I never said I was committing sodomy! I’ve never, we’ve never actually…”

She raised an eyebrow, “I’ve been a whore since I was a child Marco, please don’t be coy with me now.”

“We’ve never been… penetrative.”

“But you still fear detection?”

“I’ve found that often people don’t differentiate. Besides I am friends with Princess Kokachin as well-”

“His wife?” She blanches as that, “When you say friend you mean-”

“We’re actually just friends. We met before she was engaged to the prince and we bonded over being so far from home. But of course she’s not supposed to talk to men, yet alone me so we decided to keep it a secret and start again in public.”

“To think Polo, you started here with no friends and now you have Byamba, Jingim and Kokachin. I might even go so far as to say Chabi and Kublai as well.”

“And you?”

“Yes Round eye, I suppose we are friends too.”

Marco looked around her room suddenly, his curiosity finally getting the better of him, “Why is it your room is located in the Vice Regent’s quarters?”

Mei Lin scoffed, “Would you believe it, he’s fallen in love with me. He convinced Empress Chabi that I am currency and as I had tried to kill her she has not thought to check on me recently.”

“You’re currency, I’m a plaything and yet we’re the one sent to find an emperor.”


	5. And Then My Eyes Go Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon enough she stole away to Marco’s room. She made sure no one on the outside saw her but she cursed her lack of attention when she turned around to find Jingim there lying on Marco’s bed holding a book and looking like he’d been caught red handed. The two stared at each other in shock “Prince Jingim.” She quickly bowed wondering if she could leave and not have this conversation.

Mei Lin mulled over her words to Marco as she schemed away with Ahmad. She didn’t want to take over the Khanate, she couldn’t care less who was on the throne so long as her daughter was safe. She was safe now. Despite everything, Chabi took care of her as she promised. And Marco was possibly her only friend in this world who was still alive. If Ahmad became Khan he would find himself in Mongol territory without a friend in the court, Jingim would certainly be dead. Even as she knew they had helped kill her brother, tear down her home, she couldn’t hold it in herself to hate Marco.

Soon enough she stole away to Marco’s room. She made sure no one on the outside saw her but she cursed her lack of attention when she turned around to find Jingim there lying on Marco’s bed holding a book and looking like he’d been caught red handed. The two stared at each other in shock “Prince Jingim.” She quickly bowed wondering if she could just leave and not have this conversation.

“Mei Lin.”

She was surprised he addressed her by her name and not any of the nicknames, titles and insults she’d picked up over the years. “I’m not here for… me and Marco are friends.” She cursed how much her claim sounded like a lie.

Jingim nodded, his eyes narrowing, “Yes me too.”

Mei Lin wanted to drive home the point that they really were just friends but she figured that would give the game away that she knew about Marco and the Prince. “I should go.” She said, it wasn’t like she could tell Marco the truth about Ahmad with Jingim right there, he’d have her killed for treason in a heartbeat.

“Wait!” Jingim stopped her. It wasn’t quite an order but she figured she should obey anyway, “We should wait for Marco. I’m sure he’d be sad to have missed you.” Jingim’s voice was bitter, his eyes were narrowed at her in jealousy.  _ Great _ just what she needed.

Marco came home not soon after and seemed very shocked to see Jingim sitting on his bed and Mei Lin at his desk “Um. Prince Jingim.” He bowed quickly, “Mei Lin.” He greeted her with a polite nod.

“Mei Lin says you’re friends.” Jingim said in a short clipped tone.

“Yes we are. We were travelling together for quite some time when we were looking for the boy emperor.”

“Mmmm.” Jingim replies, unimpressed. Mei Lin knows he’s reading ‘friend’ in the same way Marco and Jingim were ‘friends’. It certainly didn’t help that she was a concubine and a spy.

Mei Lin decided she would let Marco deal with the fall out from this, “I have to go. Marco I have to talk to you about something important later.”

“Okay, tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” She bowed as she left, stealing out into the night just as she’d come in and mentally wishing Marco good luck in dealing with the overly possessive prince.

  
  


Jingim was sulking. Marco almost couldn’t believe it, he was sitting there, arms crossed and sulking. It had been a long time since Jingim’s temper had been directed at him but as he suddenly stood up and stalked towards him, Marco was reminded of the man all that time ago who had advocated for his death and who had fought him in Hundred Eyes’ dojo. Marco backed up on instinct alone although his instincts must have been bad because he hit the wall in a second. “What were you doing with her?” The prince demanded to know.

“Nothing.” Marco tried to tell him.

“Nothing.” Jingim scowled, “You expect me to believe you were doing nothing with  _ her _ . The  _ whore _ who had my father wrapped around her little finger, who was concubine to the old emperor of the Song, who snuck in here as a spy and tried to kill my mother?”

“Jingim, we travelled together for weeks and we became  _ friends _ .” Marco repeated, he didn’t even know what else to say because this was truly what happened, there was no half truth or hidden agendas.

Jingim pushed him up against the wall, “I  _ bet _ all you did was track the emperor.” He said it with a biting sarcasm that cut Marco deep, “I bet all those nights lying next to each other in the dark, you never kissed her, never touched her like you touch me.” He hissed.

“Jingim, I  _ didn’t _ . What can I say to make you trust me.” Marco’s heart hammered but it wasn’t the heady arousal he was used to feeling when Jingim was this close to him, it was his old fear rearing his ugly head. The fear that Jingim would get too angry at him one day and just kill him, Hundred Eyes’ words echoing around his head  _ you may kill him if you wish.  _ He was the Prince’s plaything, of course he didn’t want anyone else touching him but why didn’t he believe that no one else had. “It’s you, there’s only you.”

Jingim’s hand is at his throat suddenly, holding him in place with his whole body, “Then why is  _ she _ in your room.”

Before Marco can try and convince him further that he really hadn’t done anything with Mei Lin, Jingim’s kissing him, his hand still very firmly around his neck and Marco blinks away black spots as breathing starts to become much more difficult. The feeling of not getting any air into his lungs isn’t one that Marco likes, it fills him with panic and makes him want to run outside and gasp in the cool night air. A hand goes to Jingim’s wrist, instinctively trying to tear his hand away but in his panic forgetting the things he had learnt in training, any of the moves that would help him get out of this situation. He’s sure if it had been anyone else he would have already engaged in a fight with them, but it isn’t just anyone. It’s Jingim with his hands around his neck and his tongue down his throat. And because it’s Jingim his body has a Pavlovian response to his kiss and his body flush against his and Marco can feel the blood rush south and his head spin.

He finally gets the wherewithal to push Jingim off him properly and he stands there gasping for air, one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other holding Jingim at arm’s length away as he tries to catch his breath. “Get out.” He says, surprising himself even as he gasps it out. He hadn’t known what he was going to say when he’d opened his mouth.

“Marco, I’m so-” Jingim starts looking faintly horrified at himself.

“Get out!” Marco repeated again, almost yelling. If he could yell, his voice was hoarse and rough. “Go!”

Jingim stumbled back as if the usually graceful and noble prince had forgotten how to use his feet and ran away.


	6. The Night Is Now Half Gone

Jingim couldn’t believe he’d done that to Marco, to his pale flower. He couldn’t believe he’d defiled that perfect expanse of skin that was his unblemished neck. He couldn’t believe he hurt Marco. He’d hurt Marco before of course but he’d told himself those days were long passed, he had to make up for almost sending him to his death, had to make up for all the things he said to him and instead he had made things worse. Invaded his only space free from the pressures of court, chased off his friend, choked him. He didn’t even think he had slept with Mei Lin, not after he’d assured him he hadn’t but she had been in his room at night, a whore with his Marco.

With Kokachin next to him in bed, Sorga and his other two wives just next door, the concubines further down the hall the hypocrisy wasn’t lost on him. Even if Marco was with someone else, with the concubine he still wouldn’t have even close to the number of spinning plates that Jingim had.

Of course as much as he liked Kokachin, sleeping with her was like a chore, to check ‘make heir’ off the to-do list. The other wives and the concubines because if he  _ didn’t _ there would be talk in the court.

“What’s wrong husband?” Kokachin grumbled from the place her head had come to rest on his chest.

“I got into a fight with Marco.” He paused when he realised he’d called him Marco and not any of the myriad of other names he tends to call him in front of other people.

She sat up a bit at that, he knew Marco and Kokachin had become friends recently, the two of them having fun playing with the Song Dynasty children in the gardens so he wasn’t too surprised she would be interested in this. “What was the fight about?”

He regrets mentioning the fight. What was he supposed to say, I got jealous that my boyfriend was with someone else? “We used to fight a lot you know.”

“Oh I know.” She chuckled.

“You do?”

Kokachin bit her lip, “Before we were engaged to be married… I was not supposed to talk to any men.”

“Yes. To preserve your virginity for marriage.”

“Yes. I didn’t have any friends and I was a long way from home and the Latin did not know what to make of my royal title and so we became friends and bonded over our loss of home, the strange life in the court. Marco spoke of your fights often.”

“Oh. You must have hated me.”

“Hated you?”

“I was never very nice to Marco before. I’m sure if he told you of them, I wouldn’t have come off very well.”

“Not at all, Master Polo was very fair in his portrayal of you. He spoke of the pressures of being the prince and the next Khan. He spoke of the impossible situations you were put in. You know Polo paints pictures with his words, he made you art. He even acknowledged that perhaps he should not have challenged you so much in front of everyone.”

“Really?” Jingim didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Marco and Kokachin had apparently been friends for way longer than they had let on and had lied about it to him. Didn’t know how to feel about the fact that the two had talked about him long before either was on his radar.

She nodded, “I can tell you don’t want to tell me what the fight is about but I’m sure whatever it is, Marco is already trying to see your side of things. Apologise to him and I’m sure he will forgive you.”

He wanted to believe Kokachin, he really did but she didn’t know what he’d done, just how in the wrong he had been, there was no court pressure that had caused him to almost choke Marco into unconsciousness. He resolved all the same to do as she had advised and apologise, apologies never came easy to him but he knew when it was time to put away his pride and admit he had been wrong.

He couldn’t find Marco the next day. He wasn’t with Hundred Eyes training, nor was he with the Khan playing chess, he wasn’t with Kokachin and the children in the garden, he wasn’t in his house, he wasn’t by the tree beyond the walls with the ribbon and he wasn’t in the stables or the tavern. Jingim was almost at his wits end until he remembered that the merchant had one more friend in the palace who hadn’t checked in on, one who had vowed to meet with today. 

He realised quickly that he never actually went to Ahmad’s quarters, not for a long time. It also occurred to him that Mei Lin was still a prisoner and was definitely not supposed to have free reign of the castle like she appeared to have, nor was she supposed to have guests which meant if Jingim wanted to avoid Marco’s friend getting in trouble, he couldn’t get caught by Ahmad either. He found the two pretty easily once he had figured out where to look but paused before he entered when he heard them talking.

“Want to fill me in on the bruise?” Mei Lin asked, drinking some tea.

“Not particularly.” Marco replied, sheepishly rubbing his neck.

“Marco, I’ve been a royal whore for years. Royals are possessive, they don’t like to share.”

“He’s not like that.”

“Isn’t he? Because it seems to be that he assumed we were sleeping together and got mad. Am I wrong?”

Marco didn’t answer, she certainly wasn’t wrong but he didn’t want her to be right either.

“You have two choices. Do what all royal concubines do, deal with it with little comment or be prepared to be left behind faster than you can say ‘yes prince Jingim’.”

“Deal with it?” Marco asked incredulously, Marco had never dealt with anything quietly and without comment in his life.

“You can’t out right say to him ‘don’t do it again’, that will make him  _ want _ to do it again just to remind you that he owns you.”

“He doesn’t  _ own _ me.”

“I was under the impression that you were the Khan’s servant.”

“I mean… isn’t everyone the Khan’s servant?”

“No Polo,” She shook her head, trying to highlight the difference, “you were gifted by your father directly to the Khan and he keeps you here around the palace to wax lyrical about the deserts.”

“He sends me on important missions! I found the boy emperor! I designed the siege engines!”

“But what does the Prince see? His father’s plaything.”

Jingim expected Marco to have a comeback to this, expected him to fight the Song concubine on the point but he didn't, instead he simply asked, “So what am I supposed to do?”

“You have to ask the question of all concubines. If you want out of the relationship, you risk his wrath or his indifference. When the royals get bored of a royal concubine they have no  _ need _ for a concubine. You might get tossed to the side so must decide what is more important to you.”

“I don’t get it, just last week you said he cared about me.”

She laughed at that as if Marco had said something hilarious. “Kings and Princes have a _ terrible _ habit of falling in love with the people they’re fucking, even when they shouldn’t. Especially when they shouldn’t”

Marco frowned, “So you think he only cares about me because he… screwed me? Not the other way around?”

“What other way around?”

“He screwed me because he cared about me.”

“He  _ fucked _ you because you’re a novelty and because you are quite pretty for a Latin.”

“ _ Pretty! _ ”

“You can not risk getting old. You need to get new tricks.”

“What?” Marco was frowning in confusion, not at all sure what she meant. “I’m not a dog learning tricks.”

“But you are. When we become concubines we get training on how to please men, how to convey emotions. We train in rooms of mirrors to perfect every detail. You lack the training, so you need a new trick, the next level; you need to get penetrative.”

“ _ What!”  _ Marco squarked, “I can’t do that!”

“Because of your God or because of Ghengis?”

“Both!”

“But if he sodomises you, you will have information over him, even if he does get sick of you he can never toss you out.”

“You… want me to blackmail Prince Jingim?”

“Exactly!”

Jingim was confused by the entire conversation, the fact that Mei Lin kept comparing their relationship to that of a prince and a royal concubine and Marco didn’t correct her, the fact that he seemed so scared of Jingim getting bored of him. He wanted to stand by the door and listen to their conversation all day but he suddenly heard Ahmad’s voice outside his quarters and he sucked in a worried breath. He opened the door to Mei Lin’s room and the two looked very shocked to see him, “My brother’s coming, you have to hide me.”

“I have to hide  _ both _ of you!” She whispered, pulling Marco up to his feet. She grabbed them both and pushed them into a closet in the corner, “Be quiet or I’m in trouble.” She paused suddenly aware that they were in her room and Ahmad would most likely want something from her, may even discuss his plans to her, “Also Marco… if anything terrible comes up it’s probably what I was trying to tell you about yesterday.”

“What?” He whispered his thoughts making a meal of the vagaries she had spoken in, but she’d already shut the door on the two of them and gotten rid of the extra cup, hiding any evidence of Marco being there.

As she suspected Amhad wanted something from her, wanted everything from her. Stripping naked of his clothes, Mei Lin did the same, trying not to think about the two boys in hearing range who would know exactly what she was doing.

“Vice Regent.” She greeted in a sultry tone, slowly following him down to the bed, hands and body just hovering over him, the ghost of her touch keeping him on edge.

“Say it.” He hissed, letting her take the lead with his body but still remaining in control.

“Great Khan.” She finally allowed her body to touch his, straddling him. At least if she had to do this in front of Marco and Jingim, Ahmad hadn’t wanted the more extreme version with careful rope ties all over their bodies and a fake phallus hanging from her hips.

In the wardrobe the boys exchange glances and raised eyebrows at Ahmad’s preferred bedroom nickname. Their eyes had adjusted in the dark and they could see how close they were to each other. Jingim could even make out the outline of the hand shaped bruise on his neck. He stared at it, eyebrows crinkling together, still disgusted he had done that to Marco, he wanted to apologise but now  _ definitely _ wasn’t the time.

Ahmad watched as Mei Lin sunk down onto him and soon the room was filled with pants and moans and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh in a wholly obscene fashion. Jingim decided to ignore the hardening in his trousers and tried to look anywhere but Marco. Marco, flushed and embarrassed, a few inches away, Marco who’s pupils had grown so big in the darkness, the green in his eyes had disappeared to a slim band. Marco who Jingim wanted to reach out and touch. He held himself back, trying to ignore the tension growing in the closet until finally Ahmad orgasmed, spilling over the edge with thoughts of “Empress Mei Lin.” on his tongue.

It was the middle of the day so Ahmad left to get back to work. There were the tell tale signs of water being used to wash and then of clothes being put back on and then Mei Lin opened the door and stepped aside to let them out.

Both squinted as their eyes adjusted to the light, throwing their hands up. Marco groaned at the almost painful sensation of too much light too quickly but after a few over exaggerated blinks they could see normally again.

Mei Lin didn’t look at all embarresed so Marco tried not to be either but Mei Lin had done this all her life, Marco came from a fairly repressed country, he didn’t know if he’d ever get over the difference in how sex was treated. “You heard me call him Khan? That’s what I needed to tell you.”

Jingam’s eyebrows shot up, “I’m not sure what my brother does in his bed, or yours, is Marco’s business.”

“I would agree, except…” She led them both down a corridor to another room in Ahmad’s suit. She ran her hand along the painting left to right, the same way she had first seen it, watched them take in the beautiful painting depicting the ugliness and horror or war, watched the prince realise that the Mongol soldiers were being horribly outmatched by a force he couldn’t quite place and then as she reached the end she watched them both see the head of Kublai Khan at the feet of the throne and Ahmad sat, eyes dark and hollow, as Khan of all Mongolia.

Marco gasped, “He wouldn’t!”

Jingim scowled at Mei Lin, “What is this? Speak!”

“His plans for the future. He wants to be Khan by any means necessary, to kill you and your father as revenge for killing his parents and destroying his home.”

“But my parents treated him as their son!”

“To be the son of the man who slaughtered your people. What kind of life is that? To be loyal to the man who took you prisoner against your will.”

Jingim couldn’t help the way his eyes scan to Marco,  _ to be loyal to the man who took you prisoner _ . Was that how the merchant felt, was he too biding his time waiting for the opportunity to strike? He shook his head clear of his old doubts, he had to focus on the current problem, Ahmad’s betrayal. “You know his plans?”

“I am his plans.” She sighed, “He was supposed to convince the Khan to kill the boy emperor, provoke rage in the South, as Vice Regent he was supposed to send the army South as the Khan, you, Hundred Eyes, Empress Chabi and Marco all focused on the Kurultai. At some point you were all supposed to leave him in charge and he would take control of the city and the army.”

“How does that lead to killing any of the royal family?” Marco asked not quite getting how a coup would wind up with everyone dead if they were miles away.

“Ahmad is in league with Kaidu’s mother, she is supposed to convince him to stray away from his honourable path to being Khan and take a more dastardly route. Nayan-”

“Nayan is loyal to my father.”

“He was yes, but Nayan is also loyal to the Church and the Church wants the Khanate destroyed, they don’t care how they spread christianity and quite frankly the uncle of the Khan is a pretty good way.”

“The Pope sanctioned this?” Marco asked looking a little sick.

“According to Ahmad the Pope has met with Nayan on several occasions to discuss killing the Khan and yet he has never reported this back to the court of Cambulac.”

Jingim took it all in, “Kaidu needs Nayan’s vote so he works with Ahmad and the christians to ambush us all at the Kurultai.”

“Exactly.”

“And where are you in all this?”

“Fetching the boy Emperor. Letting Polo know how much people hate the Khan in the South.”

“That doesn’t seem like that big of a contribution on your part.” Jingim pointed out.

“He’s fallen in love with you.” Marco echoed what she had said before, “He wants you as his Empress.”

“So he claims, I’m not sure I believe him.”

“And why do you allow this?”

“He has control over me and over my daughter.”

“Your daughter is under Empress Chabi’s protection, I’ve told you she is safe and happy.”

“The guards all follow the Vice Regent’s commands over the Empress and I did not think the Khan would be all too sympathetic to my plight.”

Jingim looked at the wall again, his face paleing, “Marco get my father here now. Don’t let Ahmad see you. Don’t let the guards see you.”

  
  


Marco nodded and left with a sharp bow, running to the Khan’s throne room. Ahmad was nowhere to be seen thankfully and he entered quickly, quietly and respectfully. “Permission to approach Sire?” He asked, not wanting to say anything in front of the palace guards when they might very well report it to Ahmad.

He beckoned him forward, “Speak.”

“Prince Jingim requires your presence immediately and in complete secret.”

Kublai looks at him and for a second he’s scared he won’t do it, won’t believe him or won’t want to follow the foreigner to a random location without his guards but he stands up with a sigh and the two leave the throne room, a hand signal staying any guards who tried to follow and returning them to their posts. “What’s with all the cloak and dagger Latin?”

“You will see Sire.” He checked every corridor, they walked down, making sure they didn’t run into too many people and that Ahmad wasn’t lurking in any of them.

The Khan watched almost amused at Marco’s espionage until they arrived at Ahmad’s quarters, his expression taking on a darker tone, “Polo, you overstep your bounds.”

“Prince Jingim is inside.” He insisted, ushering him in. The Khan reluctantly followed and was surprised to see Prince Jingim standing with Mei Lin and studying one of Ahmad’s paintings.

“Father, look.” He pointed at the crux of the painting, not wasting any time.

“What is this?”

“Ahmad’s betrayal. He plots against you, against us.”

“He is my son.”

“He is my brother and yet is a traitor. Mei Lin has told us some of his plans, if we can confirm some of her reports we will burn the rot out of Cambulac and win the Kuraltai. We may put an end to the Christian expansion in the East.”

“The Christians? All religions are welcome in-”

Marco interrupted before it occurred to him not to, “The Pope will not stand by as you expand westward, with the South conquered there’s nothing to stop you looking West.”

The Khan scowled, “Mei Lin, you will reside with Jingim’s concubine from now on.”

“I can not, my daughter-”

“I will ensure no harm comes to your daughter, I will put her in Kokachin’s guardianship and I will speak to Chabi.”

“Wait.” Jingim paused, “If she’s with Kokachin doesn’t that just mean she’s with me?”

“Come, we must discuss this further without threat of Ahmad’s discovery.”

They spoke of what they knew in Kublai’s chambers, Mei Lin doing most of the talking, speaking of plans that hadn’t worked out and ongoing plans that were still settling and making Kublai swear to keep her daughter safe.


	7. With His Venom Irresistible and Bittersweet

The Khan focussed on dealing with Ahmad’s ambitions at home. Going about creating a royal protective circle around Chabi, Kokachin, Ling Ling, the boy Emperor and Mei Lin. Chabi had not been happy to hear Ahmad a traitor, had been even less happy when she heard who their source was but she had believed her husband and her other son when they said he had committed treason.

Jingim and Marco were sent to appease the Kurultai members and win the votes with gifts and kind words the way Chabi had originally asked him to he would not leave Jingim to deal with Ahmad, he was the one who welcomed him into his house and into his heart, it was his mistake to correct. 

Marco didn’t initiate any conversations that weren’t mission critical and even that he kept much briefer than usual. “We should stop by the river.” He pointed at a body of running water close by. He didn’t clarify to fill their water skins like he usually would.

They dismounted and held their water skins under the water, watching the bubbles surface and indicating that it was full. “Marco…” He started wearily. “I don’t know what I can do to make this right but I am sorry.”

Marco stared down into the water for a moment, not replying. “We should get back on the road if we want to get there in time.”

His bruises had healed by the time they reached the chiefs. Jingim compartmentalised, putting aside his issues with Marco as he tried to appease everyone in their annoyance at the Khan’s no show. He wasn’t quite sure how they had managed to convince him to wrestle but they had. He was trained in it, like most of them were, and he wasn’t a bad wrestler but when he saw his opponent he felt dread bubble up in his stomach, he glanced at Marco whose mouth had fallen open. “There is no shame in a draw.” He said, giving Jingim a pitying look.

Jingim got tossed to the ground a few times before he looked over at Marco who shrugged, Marco had wrestled twice, he’d lost once and been rescued by Khutulun the other time. Jingim knew there was no way he could win a wrestling match against the bulwark but if he didn’t do something this would just become embarrassing. He broke out the illegal moves and brought him down in a minute, there was silence and Jingim was sure he had screwed up but then a slow applause spread through the spectators and broke into cheers. They couldn’t exactly award him the victory but they seemed happy enough with his win, vowing to meet with the Khan if he made his way to Mongolia proper. Jingim knew his father wouldn’t exactly be happy with that but he took what he could get, nodding and promising his father would invite them there.

Jingim had been pretty pleased at himself on the ride home so it was a major mood dampener when Khutulun and Orus, his cousins, managed to kill their whole entourage. They both had their swords half drawn but with the string of archers pointing arrows at them and the distance between Kaidu’s men and the Prince it wouldn’t do much good. Khutulun at least had the decency to look contrite for her actions, sending a look over to her cousin that he could only read as apologetic but Orus, the brute that he was, didn’t look anywhere near as put off by it all. He took it a step further, killing the horses they were sat atop with one slice.

Marco groaned loudly as the horse fell on his leg, going a sickly pale colour as Jingim struggled to get him out from under the horse. His leg was busted, they wouldn’t get to the waystation by nightfall on a leg like this and all the other horses were dead. “Come on, we need to find shelter for the night.” He helped Marco up and focused on making sure he didn’t jostle the injury too much although from the way Marco was breathing he was doing a very bad job at it.

Marco passed out as soon as they’d found a cave and Jingim had set him down. The Prince was no doctor but something told him that wasn’t a good sign. He tended as best as he could to the wound while the Latin slept and then went to sleep himself, waking up early to hunt for something to eat.

  
  


Marco woke up to footsteps approaching. He didn’t know where he was or why but when he called out, no one replied. He struggled to his feet and grabbed a rock, ready to absolutely brain whoever walked around the corner. He swung wildly and his wrist was caught by Jingim’s sure and steady hand, “Whoa there!”

“Prince Jingim!” He exclaimed shocked, dropping the rock.

“I went hunting.” He filled in, holding up the fox before getting a fire going as Marco sat back down in the cave.

“You should have gone to the way station.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You can send people back after you get there-”

“I’m not leaving you Marco.” It came out harsher than he had meant it, more like an order from a Prince than a gesture of affection so he took a breath and tried again, “The Steppes are inhospitable for those who don’t know it. You wouldn’t last long out here, especially with your leg. I’m staying right here by your side. And besides I’m sure my father will find us soon, he’ll be looking for us when we don’t check in.”

Marco falls in and out of consciousness, getting more and more delirious as time goes on and Jingim’s not entirely sure what to do except keep him awake during the day so he’ll sleep at night. Marco starts telling him of some girl on his canal route when he used to do deliveries. And then he starts talking about the nuns at the convent and his aunt who never really wanted him and his father who had left him here to die. He gets distracted in his quest to tell Jingim his entire life story, repeating Jingim's name to himself, seeing how it tastes on his tongue as if he'd never said it before, "Jingim. Jing-im."

"Yes Marco?" Jingim answered assuming he was actually trying to call for him and not just saying his name.

"He's so golden. And radiant like the sun. His hair is like the river, the giver of life and the water that cuts through the earth." Marco reaches out and grabs the end of Jingim's hair, carding it through his fingers. "My sun and my stars and my moon." He mumbles, pulling Jingim closer to him with a soft tug to his hair. Jingim ends up lying next to him, face to face, letting Marco whisper secrets about the Prince right to his face, "He kisses like he fights but he fights like he dances." His fingers trace Jingim's face, his thumb brushing away invisible eyelashes from his cheeks "Can I tell you a secret?"

"You can." Jingim whispers back.

"I don't think he likes me anymore." Marco's admission is so quiet Jingim almost doesn't hear it.

"He still likes you Marco. He loves you."

Jingim doesn't think Marco's heard him when he starts talking about his family again, prattling off more facts about his father and his uncle. He spoke of his mother with her kind eyes and her soft hands and her warm hugs. “She wanted to be a singer but she couldn’t make a living that way. She was very good. She used to say my father would come back with so much money from the Silk Road she would never have to work again and she would be able to sing all she wanted. She used to sing to me.” He starts singing a song in Italian and Jingim couldn’t help but think that Italian was a beautiful language when Marco spoke it.

He starts mumbling things in Italian after that and Jingim tries to get him to switch back to a language he actually knows but Marco doesn’t seem to be present enough to make the decision. When he starts reciting prayers and bible verses in Latin Jingim understands him a little better although not by much and when he kneels and prostrates himself by the cave entrance, Jingim wonders where he thinks he is in his injury-addled mind. He pictured the church spires Marco had once told him about, the stain glass windows, the smell of incense. Does Marco look at this cave and see a chapel? Does Marco look at the sun and see his God?

Jingim’s glad when he sees his father’s horses riding over the ridges, “Over here!” He yells, his relief stark. His father envelopes him in a hug.

“You’re okay?”

“I’m okay father.”

“And Marco?”

They both looked over at the Latin who’s hair was matted down with sweat, his usual perfect curls all but gone and his eyes unfocused. “His leg is injured, I suspect he has an infection or something else has caused his fever.”

“He’s delirious?”

“He’s been speaking Italian for 4 days, saying prayers in Latin for 2. I can’t seem to snap him out of it.”

The soldiers lift Marco onto a horse and the rider behind him has to shift Marco himself to stop the man from falling right off again. “A day with the healers and he will be fine.” The Khan insisted, “He will live.”


	8. She Has Almost Killed Me With Love For That Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You promise you won’t do it again?” Marco asked him in a small voice, much too small to be coming from the boisterous merchant.
> 
> “I promise.” He took Marco’s hand in his own, he would have kissed him if it weren’t for the few other injured people also in the sick bay, who weren’t openly staring at the Crown Prince but were certainly trying their best to figure out what was being said.

After Jingim gets himself cleaned up he visits Marco in the sick bay, he looks marginally better, some of the colour returned to his face and his leg bandaged properly. “Marco?” he whispers, checking to see if he’s awake.

“Mmm?” He hums before opening his eyes, “Prince Jingim!” He sits up to bow but Jingim pushes him back down, a bout of deja vu runs through him as he remembers that first time he and Marco had kissed and done this particular song and dance in the Song throne room.

“How are you?”

“They say we were gone for a week, I only remember about 2 days of it.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Did I say anything embarrassing?”

Jingim chuckled, “You started speaking Italian halfway through so I do not know.”

“Oh. Okay, I suppose that’s for the best.”

“You also…” Jingim hesitated, considered bringing up Marco’s ‘secret’, how he had mumbled that he thought Jingim didn’t like him any more into the grains of sand out in the Mongol Steppes but he couldn’t bring himself to say it, he left it buried in the desert, to die where they had been saved, “You spent two whole days in prayer and reciting lines from the Bible.” He offered up in lieu of anything else to say.

Marco looked unconvinced by that, “That doesn’t seem like me.” He had virtually given up the academic parts of being a Christian for the lesser part of 6 years since he’d started travelling. He hadn’t read the Bible in ages, he didn’t think he could recite much of it  _ now _ , yet alone when he was delirious.

“I can only tell you what I saw.”

Marco shrugged, unsure of what else to say. Things had not been the same since Marco had told him to leave his room. “Marco… I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this but I am sorry for that night. You know I trust you right? I’d trust you with my life. It was stupid and cruel and horrible of me to react like that and I swear it won’t happen again. We can go back to how things were.”

“You promise you won’t do it again?” Marco asked him in a small voice, much too small to be coming from the boisterous merchant.

“I promise.” He took Marco’s hand in his own, he would have kissed him if it weren’t for the few other injured people also in the sick bay, who weren’t openly staring at the Crown Prince but were certainly trying their best to figure out what was being said.

“I forgive you.”

“Prince Jingim, The Khan requests your presence.” A messenger announced from the door, startling him out of his moment with the Venician.

“We still have to deal with  _ you know who _ ,” He offered helplessly as he made to leave “I will see you when you get out of the sick bay.” He wanted to kiss Marco’s hand but he definitely couldn’t do that so he settled for a quick squeeze before leaving to find his father. 

When Kublai had ridden to Kaidu to find out where his son had disappeared to he had used the opportunity to talk about his plans with Nayan and the Pope, he had denied it all after a few looks from his mother but that said enough. Byamba had also come back home, begging for forgiveness and claiming ignorance, “Khutulun did not tell me her father’s plans, if she had I would have stopped her.”

“I suppose that’s why they did not tell you.” Jingim grasped his forearm in his, “Peace brother, I know where  _ your  _ loyalties lie.”

“Yes.” Byamba replied, stilted, “Father has told me about Ahmad, why do we not simply arrest him?”

“We have no true evidence apart from Mei Lin’s word. Even Kaidu denies it.”

“But there is a huge painting of-”

“-We want to deliver the vote as well as Ahmad’s guilty verdict.” Jingim explained quickly, “We need to show everyone the extent of the betrayal so the Khan does not look over zealous in his punishment and then we must show everyone what happens to those who betray the Khanate.”

Kublai knew he had to do something before he rode to talk to the chiefs, if he left the palace he couldn’t ensure an easy return, not with Ahmad still his Vice Regent. He needed to name a new Vice Regent but with Yusef dead he wasn’t sure who to name in his stead. He also needed a new Finance Minister and he told his sons as much. “Why not name Jingim as Vice Regent?” Byamba asked confused, “With him being your heir, isn’t that basically what he does anyway?”

Kublai shook his head, “The vice Regent needs to be someone who won’t or at least isn’t supposed to become Khan so they don’t become too power hungry they also need to be someone I can hopefully pass on to Jingim at some point, for continuity’s sake. Byamba, go to the finance office, scope out Ahmad’s subordinates with Polo and try to find a suitable replacement. Jingim, you and I will look for a new Vice Regent.”

“And what are we to do with Ahmad?” The Prince asked, his fists balling up at the very mention of his traitorous brother.

“I will think on this some more.”

“But-” Jingim started, a contrary opinion as was often for the two.

“Alone.” The Khan stated, leveling the younger men with a look.

There was an air of finality to this statement which led to the Khan’s sons getting up and leaving to go about their day, their responsibilities weighing on their minds. “Byamba I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad to be back.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Khutulun.”

He sighed, “I knew it would be difficult with her father being against ours but I didn’t think it would be like this. I didn’t think she and Orus would… well actually I can believe that Orus would but I didn’t think she would do anything to hurt you like that.”

“In her defence, she only killed the guards, it was Orus who put us in a bad spot.”

“Mmmm. How _ is  _ Polo?”

“Father was right, a day with the healers has done him some good, I suspect his leg will hurt for some time but it will heal and his fever is all but gone.”

“That’s good. I’m glad the two of you are friends now or so I’ve heard.”

Jingim nodded, “You were right about him, he’s loyal to the Khanate… and he’s a good man.”

Byamba grinned, throwing his arm over Jingim’s shoulder, “This is why you should listen to your big brother.”

“I will in future.” Jingim laughed but he meant it, at some point he would be Khan and his brother would hopefully be one of his generals, one of his most trusted advisors and allies.

“How is the new wife? Any future Khan’s around yet?”

Jingim paused at that, “Not yet.” He grumbled. His father had never said as much but it was abundantly clear that whatever problem was getting in the way of him having children it was to do with him. Four wives, even more concubines since he was 17 and not a single thing to show for it. “I don’t… What do I do if I can’t…” His mother had made it clear that Kokachin needed to be pregnant by the time of the vote. Things were easier with Marco. With Marco he didn’t need to worry about heirs and succession and babies.

“You will become a father soon enough, I’m sure of it. Just keep putting in the work.” Byamba didn’t know what else to say apart from that, despite their own father’s insatiable appetite, in all his years he’d only fathered two children, “Even the Khan only has two sons, it will take time.”

“I don’t  _ have _ time.” His mother’s deadline had put him under a lot of pressure, if his father lost the vote… he shook the thoughts clear of his head, his father could not lose the vote. It took him a moment to realise that they’d walked back to the sick bay, of course Byamba would go to see Marco, Byamba had been one of his first friends. Jingim had once thought him his only friend although after his conversation with Kokachin it was clear that that was not true. “I should go, much work to be done.” He dismissed himself, patting Byamba as he went.

  
  
  


Marco smiled when Byamba’s hulking figure appeared in the doorway, “Master Polo, I leave you alone for a few days and you go and get yourself stranded in the desert.” He greeted, jokingly.

“Byamba! You’re back! The Khan isn’t...?”

“Angry at me? He seems to have forgiven me, in fact the two of us have a mission from the Khan.”

“Like old times.”

Byamba laughed, clapping Polo on his good leg and taking a seat by his bedside, “You and I have been tasked with finding a new Finance Minister for when you-know-who eventually loses the title.”

“If you know about all that than the Khan must trust you as he claims.”

“Enough about work, what’s going on with you and my brother?”

Marco frowned, his heart rate picking up, “What do you mean?”

“I leave and you guys can barely stand each other and when I come back I find out you two are the best of friends! How’d you change his mind about you?”

Marco looked away for a moment, it’s not like he could say he’d fallen in love with the Prince and somehow ended up his whore, “After the Battle at Song, I earned his trust and his friendship came soon after. With you gone… I suspect he was lonely.”

Byamba laughed, “I love my brother but we’ve never been that close.”

“I think the only person he was ever closer to than you is Ahmed.”

The two men sit on that statement, the sadness of that reality setting it. “But now he has you too. And his wife, she seems quite lovely.”

“Yes, she is.” Marco smiled fondly.

“You are close too?”

“We spend time together in the gardens with the Song Princess and the Boy Emperor.” Marco, swings his legs over the bed and carefully tests the weight on his injured one. He winced as he lay it flat, “It looks like I won’t be walking properly for a bit.”

“That tends to happen when you fall under a horse. You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

“It would have been if the Khan’s men hadn’t found us when they did, I was delirious with fever, I don’t even remember half of it.”

“Even with my brother there?”

“Prince Jingim is many things, a doctor is not one of them.”

Byama laughed heartily as he grabbed a kane from one of the attentive healers and helped Marco to his feet, “Are you sure you should be walking so soon?”

“We have a job to do don’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS guys in no way saying what Jingim did in this fic was acceptable or a good way to conduct a relationship nor is it the best policy to forgive acts of violence fueled by jealousy in a relationship but this is A) set in the olden days and B) speaking to a wider character point where I think Jingim is probably really emotionally repressed and we've seen him lash out to the likes of his father, the literal Khan, in the show so I don't think it's impossible to assume he wouldn't do the same to anyone else, especially in a weaker moment.


	9. The Indistinct Dead In Hell's Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the meeting drew to a close Maro spoke up, “Great Khan, Empress Chabi, I hoped to broach a… somewhat sour subject with you both?”

After trying to sneak around right under Ahmad’s nose Polo and Byamba finally had a short list for new finance ministers. The sneaking was made easier by Ahmad’s immense business, between being Finance Minister, Vice Regent and plotting the Khan’s demise he didn’t have a lot of spare time and he spent considerably less time in the finance office than he used to. The obvious choice was Ahmad’s direct underling, a Mongol man named Monke but he seemed too close to the source of the rot and whilst competent at his job Byamba was sure he would hold some loyalty to Ahmad. In the end the man at the top of their shortlist was probably the one thought to be the least likely, the Song Dynasty’s finance minister, Shen Kuo, who had been brought to the Capital in order to integrate their finances with the rest of the Khan’s empire. He held no love for the deceased Cricket Minister, seemed happy with the way the Boy Emperor was being treated despite everything and he was good at his job. The fact that he was from a defeated land wasn’t a write off for a job given that Hundred Eyes and many more had been recruited in a similar manner and he had already been given the approval to work in the palace without an armed escort, so he was already trusted to a certain extent.

Polo had written a pros and cons list to all the competitors in his journal, half the court already knew about it and some people even knew where he hid it so it seemed pointless to continue to do so and so he sat once again around a table with the Khan his two sons and Empress Chabi. 

Byamba and Polo gave their pitch for the Song minister after a few raised eyebrows they all agreed he would be a good choice after a more thorough loyalty check. Prince Jingim informed them all of their choices for Vice Regent, Tolui, a distant relative of Ghengis Khan. He was well-liked within the court, often gave a lot of advice from the sidelines, rarely calling attention to himself but his advice was usually good and he was already very familiar with the way the Khan did things. He had been around under Yusuf and under Ahmad and he’d known Kublai long enough to give him the advice he needed to hear. 

As the meeting drew to a close Maro spoke up, “Great Khan, Empress Chabi, I hoped to broach a… somewhat sour subject with you both?”

The couple exchanged a glance, “Go on.” Chabi spoke for the pair.

“The information we have on Kaidu, Nayan and Ahmad would not have been uncovered if not for Mei Lin, I know she can’t exactly be free but perhaps she could see her daughter from time to time?”

The Khan paused for a long moment. This  _ was _ the women who had snuck into his bed to kill his wife after all, they were talking about and so the others all waited for his reaction in silence too. “From what I hear… she wanders around the palace freely anyway.” Marco’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth opening in some kind of defence but no sound came out, his heart rate picked up considerably. “Yes I know about your little tea parties, the guards are not so blind as not to notice an _assassin_ creeping through the castle with a foreigner.”

“I… My apologies Great Khan.” Marco grimaced, unsure what else to say. If the guards had seen Mei Lin sneaking into his room and commented on this to the Khan, what of Jingim’s own subterfuge? Had anyone mentioned that The Crown Prince seemed overly friendly with the Europa in the court?

“My darling wife has guardianship over the child and it is she who was almost killed so I will leave the decision with her.”

“I must think about it. But I  _ will _ think about it Latin.”

“Thank you Empress Chabi, that is all I can ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I have such a hard time properly sticking to one tense? I always start off writing in the past tense/perfect tense and then somehow end up in the present which is really annoying to try and fix so I've kind of given up and just claimed it as my style.


	10. And On Soft Bed, Delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Say brother… I must ask…”
> 
> “If you start a question like that, it makes me not want to answer.” Jingim replied with a smile, seeing his hesitance.
> 
> “You and Polo, what’s going on?”
> 
> “Me and P-”

Marco found himself once again entertaining the Prince almost nightly, sometimes less frequently if they were overly busy. Despite Mei Lin’s warning, Jingim had not yet pushed Marco to do anything penetrative, he seemed content with everything but, running his finger through his hair and gripping the dirty blond curls in his hands when he came.

He tried not to let their nightly activities seep into their day time interactions but it was difficult, a warmer smile here, a longer touch there and suddenly those closest to them found it hard to ignore. Byamba was the first to ask, to actually ask, finding his brother in the halls and looking around to ensure they were empty, “Say brother… I must ask…”

“If you start a question like that, it makes me not want to answer.” Jingim replied seeing his hesitance.

“You and Polo, what’s going on?”

“Me and P-” Jingim started, “I well, we… we’re friends, as you know.”

“I would say you were more than friends. A blind person could see it, in fact Hundred Eyes also mentioned this to me in passing.”

Jingim was quiet. Byamba had always had his back, in important matter anyways, and he was his closest confidant, with Ahmad no longer an option. “I… You’re right.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Well it isn’t exactly allowed.”

“When have I ever cared for rules?” He clapped his brother on the back playfully but it almost sent the Prince flying, “Give me details.”

“What are we? Women, who gossip from behind delicate fans?”

“Brother…” He teased in a sing-song voice.

“Fine. I care for Marco… I-” He’d never said he loved him out loud, he’d said it in the safety of his head a million times whilst he was pushing his body into the mattress but saying it aloud made it real and that made it scary. 

“You actually… love him? He’s not just a bit of fun?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Poor Kokachin.”

“Kokachin knows the deal.”

“She knows you’re in love with her friend?”

“She knows we were married for political reasons. We have made our peace with never loving each other but we have become friends, confidants and of course we are trying for an heir. She’s an amazing woman, she has good advice and she’ll make a great Empress one day.”

“And what will that make Polo?  _ King  _ Consort?”

“Do not jest brother.” He sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. Things with Marco were supposed to be easy, but nothing was ever easy when it came to the Prince’s life. He didn’t have to worry about heirs and successors but he did have to think about optics, court opinion, his reputation. First Mei Lin and now Byamba, it seemed too many people knew his secret.

Byamba patted him lightly, “Things will be okay. You’ll be the Khan one day, you’ll make the rules, no one would dare insult you.”

“Not to my face.”

“Then I will stand behind you and make sure they don’t say it behind your back as well.”


	11. No Grove, No Dance, No Sound

Kokachin had been acting strange, Marco noted. She had come to sit with him and the children in the gardens but had not said a word passed a polite greeting. “Kokachin…” He started but she did not seem to hear him, he leaned in closer “Nergui?”

“Yes?” She started out of her daydream.

“What’s wrong? You have not been yourself today.”

“It has not been long enough to confirm although Lady Chabi says I should trust my instincts…” She bit her lip nervously, “I do believe I’ve fallen pregnant.”

“Kokachin! This is great news! You and the Prince will finally have an heir!”

“Yes…” She said slowly, staring into the middle distance, “The Prince’s heir.”

“You are not happy?”

“I am, of course.” She smiled but it was unconvincing. Marco levelled her with a look and she sighed, her willpower to keep the secret crumbling, “The baby,” she whispered, “It will not be royalty on my side, not by blood, but it will not be royalty on the other side either, it is not Jingim’s.”

“I- what? How-?”

“Chabi.” She slumped forward, forgetting her perfect posture, “The Prince has 3 other wives and no children so Chabi did what she must to secure a pregnancy.”

“So whose is it?” He hissed, a note of hysteria dripping into his voice.

She glanced to the side to see Jingim striding towards them, a smile on his face, “We will talk later.” She stood up and greeted her husband, Marco followed to do the same still reeling from her revelation. She sent him a look that signalled to him to not tell anyone, the only person who he might tell was Jingim and he was the person who the secret would hurt the most. He could never know that his children were not his own, that his heirs were fakes put in place by his own mother’s deception.

“I’m sorry to steal him from you Kokachin but Marco and I have business to attend to.”

“Of course, I will not keep you any longer.”

Marco followed Jingim from the gardens trying to put Kokachin’s admission to the back of his mind, “What’s going on?” He asked the Prince.

“The dates have all been moved up, we must go tomorrow.”

“Go? Go where?”

“To Xanadu.”

“To sway the votes? We’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes and we must prepare today.”

“But what about Ahmad?”

“Ahmad has sent half the army to the South to deal with any uprisings, it seems he’s been exaggerating reports.”

“And you let him?!”

“Uprisings in the South is a real concern, despite who raised them. My father made sure the other half is kept with him, with us as we march to Xanadu.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question, if we are all to leave Cambulac what about the Vice Regent?”

“What  _ about _ the Vice Regent?” a cool voice came from behind them both.

Marco jumped as he whirled around, having not heard him approach.

“Brother,” Jingim started, “you startled us.”

“Well I couldn’t help myself when I heard you talking about me with the Latin.”

“I was just telling Polo that we will all be heading to Xanadu, of course he doesn’t understand that as the Khan’s Vice Regent and his second in command you must remain here to ensure everything runs smoothly.”

“Yes, whilst you are securing power for the vote, I will be securing power here.” Ahmad nodded, a smile gracing his face. If neither of them had known what they knew about the Vice Regent the smile would have looked genuine but now it just looked sinister, _ securing power _ , he had said but for who?

Jingim nodded in agreement, “We must all get packing, the change in the timeline was quite a shock to everyone.”

“I’m afraid I’m to blame for that, I urged the Khan to arrive early.” Ahmad admitted, and he almost sounded sorry. It was only with his additional knowledge that Marco caught the glint in his eye, the small uptick of the corner of his mouth, the way he seemed to shift on his feet as if thinking proudly of a great plan that was about to fall into place.

Marco and Jingim went to their separate rooms to pack, Marco even passed Chabi and Kokachin who had clearly had a similar conversation about travelling so soon and were fussing about whether to bring the birthing helpers or not when Kokachin still wasn’t even sure she was pregnant. 


	12. Tonight I've Watch The Moon And Then The Pleiades Go Down

Marco didn’t have a lot to pack, he packed a few changes of clothes, his journal, a pot of ink and a few quills alongside some extra salt cakes and after a moment’s hesitation, he packed his Bible.

He hadn’t even looked at the book in months so why he felt compelled to bring it with him he did not know but it was a small book, an abridged version which he had taken with him on his travels from Venice, a nun had given it to him after he’d insisted he would go after his father. She had told him not to lose his God in the land of the godless. He tucked it under his armour over his heart and he didn’t know whether or not to feel sad that he had most definitely failed that nun.

  


He pulled his father’s cross over his head, the words inscribed on it suddenly burning on his skin,  _ All kings shall fall before him _ . He considered taking it off again, leaving it in his room but a knock at his door stopped him. He opened it to find Byamba in a similar state with his armour and his bag, “Are you ready?”

  


“I am.” He turned back into the room, grabbing his sword sheath and his bag and swinging both over his shoulder.

  


“I had an interesting talk with Jingim.” He started innocently enough.

  


“ _Oh?_ ” Marco replied, already sensing he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever Byamba said next.

  


“I asked him about you two, some friends huh?” He cracked a smile, ribbing Marco playfully with his elbow.

  


“He told you about that?” Marco couldn’t help the slight panic that escaped in his voice, Mei Lin knowing was one thing, she was a court concubine, then again Byamba’s own mother had been a concubine, something that whilst used as an insult from time to time, didn’t seem to be a sore spot for the Khan’s son.

  


“Don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe with me. Not all of us are so caught up on the laws of Ghengis.”

  


“Don’t let the Khan hear you say that.”

  


Bymaba chuckled, “Come on, let’s go before they leave without us.”

  
  
*** * ***  
  
  


The city sparkled in the distance and he couldn’t help but marvel at it, grabbing his journal and writing everything he could remember about the city from this distance. The Khan laughed at his obvious fascination, “Beautiful, is it not?”

  


“It is, Sire.” Marco responded, halting his pen to actually look at the Khan. “Like the night sky on earth. How many days ride?”

  


“Oh we’re not going there.”

  


“We’re not?”

  


“That may be the Summer Capital of my Empire but the summer _palace_ is in that direction.” He pointed to the right behind some trees that made whatever palace he was referring to impossible to place.

  


In the end it was less of a ‘palace’ in a European sense and more what Marco would have described as a war camp or a fortress, a wall encircling very simple structures and the yurts Marco had come to learn were a staple of Mongolia. The West may not always like the Oriental East but at least when they came across a city or a palace in China they could tell what it was, Marco snorted to himself imagining how confused most Europeans would be of a place like this. “What’s so funny Latin?” The Khan asked, sending dozens of eyes in his direction and drawing attention to his little laugh.

  


“Nothing!”

  


“Nothing? You mean to tell me you laugh at nothing?”

  


“I mean I was just thinking that a place like this would confuse a lot of Europeans.”

  


“What’s so confusing about the summer palace?”

  


“In Europe there’s not a lot of important places that aren’t… more built than this. Cambulac, Song, these kinds of places they would more or less understand but this would confuse them, it’s importance would confuse them.”

  


“Mmmm.” Was the Khan’s only reply and Marco hoped he hadn’t insulted his summer palace since he had basically just said it wasn't important because there was nothing built here. He seemed satisfied enough with the answer and continued on as normal much to Marco's relief.

  
  


After all the greetings and gifts were out of the way and the royal families had spoken to all the chieftains, the men went to one tent to sit with whores and get drunk. Marco was not exactly a stranger to sex but he still didn’t get how any of them could hold full length conversations whilst beautiful women danced and writhed on top of them, how they could discuss politics and caress the breasts of the concubines at the same time was beyond him. But whether Marco understood it or not that’s what happened, the Khan spoke of their shared pasts and their shared futures and conquest and power and despite a few biting remarks it was generally a pretty happy atmosphere. Jingim had a woman on his own lap but he only absentmindedly held her hand as he conversed with Marco, and Marco was happy to look at Jingim because it meant not looking at everyone else engaged in various degrees of sex acts. You can take the boy out of the Church but you couldn't take the Church out of the boy.

  


And then _she_ entered the tent. Her hair was wild and curly in a way most of the Mongols' hairs never were, her skin olive tanned, her eyes a light enough brown that you could actually see that they were brown, even in the low light of the tent and they glinted gold against the fire. When she opened her mouth to sing it was like being called by a siren, she swayed her hips and spun her hands slowly, hypnotically, mesmerising him with her voice and her slow dance and she somehow managed to look every man in the eye all at once. Marco couldn’t look away, even when Jingim leaned over and whispered, “You seem quite taken with her.”

  


Marco could barely respond. If he had been with his uncle, with the nuns, with any Venician, he knows they would have accused this woman of witchcraft and sorcery and she certainly was casting a spell on him, its like he was rooted to his seat, his eyes glued to her like how a wolf watches its prey.

  


And then the song was over and the rest of the night continued and Marco couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  


Jingim and Marco stumbled around drunkenly trying to find their respective tents at the end of the night, they could barely see straight yet alone navigate the camp they’d just arrived at in the dark. They ended up stumbling and Marco went down first, they were holding onto each other so the Prince followed, the two of them landing in the tall grass and staring up at the eternal blue sky. Jingim intertwined their hands softly, reaching out without taking his eyes off the sky, “She was beautiful, no?”

  


“I mean she-” Marco started, trying to mitigate his very obvious reaction to the singer.

  


“It’s alright. She was beautiful. Seeing you like that, the fire lighting up your awestruck face,” he finally leaned away from the stars, rolling over to face Marco who turned his head to meet his gaze, “you’re beautiful too." He brought Marco's hand up to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss, "The way I feel about you it’s…” He trailed off for lack of words.

  


“Something you can not name?”

  


“Yes it’s something I can not name. And it’s something I’m not allowed to name.” He kissed him, his other hand flying up to cup the Latin’s face. He tried to fill the kiss with everything he could not say.  _ I want you, I need you, I care for you, I love you _ . “It’s like looking up into the sky and seeing only one star.” Jingim went to straddle him, went to open up his shirt when a horse bolted passed them and startled them out of the moment.

  


They reluctantly got up, stumbling over to the horse and even after the shock Jingim knew they were both still very drunk because Marco kept bumping into him. “This is what happens when stable boys fall asleep.” The Prince laughed, holding out a steadying hand to the horse and trying to calm the horse and themselves down, “Easy now.” 

  


Marco was right behind him, the smile fell from his lips as he looked at the horse more carefully in the darkness, “Jingim.” he gasped in shock, bumping into the Prince once more. They both frowned at its bloodied eyes, “This could be a message?” Marco offered, wincing as the horse snickered in pain.

  


“I will get my father.” Jingim wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to get back to the main tent and call his father in a cohesive manner, he could barely talk but the danger of the situation certainly kept him on task.

  


His father, a bigger man than most, was considerably less drunk than most of the others. He stared at the horse in concern before deciding it was an ill-conceived prank and not a symbol of treachery aimed at one of the gifts to the Khan from the chieftains as Jingim and Marco kept insisting, “Put the poor thing out of its misery.” He insisted. Jingim unsheathed his sword and held it steadily over its neck before plunging it deep in the horse and silencing its pained neighs. “And go to bed, sleep off the alcohol.”

  


The Khan sent Jingim to bed with a few guards to make sure he didn’t fall over in his state so Marco made his way to his own yurt but found himself by his horse when he saw the singer standing there stroking the horses, he approached her and she turned to him, “I saw you staring earlier.”

  


“Everyone was staring.”

  


“You wish to be just like everyone?”

  


“You’re very good.” Marco reasoned.

  


She smiled coyly at him and patted one of the horses tied to the paddock, “They’re Thessalians.”

  


“Like Alexander’s horse?”

  


She nodded, “They are born one colour and gradually change so by the time they’re four or five the mares can barely recognise their offspring.”

  


“How do you know all this?”

  


“I consider myself a student.” She turned away from him to whisper to the horses.

  


“Of horses?” He replied, he couldn’t help but sound unconvinced.

  


“Of  _ all of it _ .” She corrected, levelling him with an amused smirk, “I have been travelling the world since I was 16.”

  


“As have I.”

  


“Come to think of it, perhaps it was 15.” She joked, one-upping him. “One day I will go to your land and dance as a European.” She mimed a more traditional European dance with another one of her smiles.

  


“And they will love you.”

  


“Would I love Venice?”

  


“You would, it’s magnificent. The city of Bridges, they call it.” He smiled wistfully thinking of his home, he had long given up the notion of returning but Venice was still where he’d spent most of his life he could not simply forget it. “There are canals instead of roads, boats instead of carts.”

  


“That’s absurd!”

  


“You would not think so if you saw it.”

  


“If it is so magnificent, why are you here and not there  _ Master World Wide _ ?”

  


“You must have summoned me.”

  


“I did no such thing.” She laughed, even as he leaned in closer, closing the distance their difference in height caused.

  


“I am a servant of the Khan.” He answered truthfully.

  


“That must be hard, to go from travelling the world to locked up in a castle like a caged songbird.”

  


“Locked up? I’m here aren’t I?”

  


“Because the Khan is here.”

  


“I’ve seen more with the Khan than in all my years of travel, I never used to get invited to the palaces.”

  


“I suppose that’s where we differ. I  _ always _ get invited to the palaces.” She stepped closer to him, tilting her head so her hair spilled onto her back and exposed her neck. She leaned in close, “Tell me your name.” She whispered in his ear.

  


“Marco Polo.” He breathed, her jasmine perfume filling his nose.

  


“I’m Shoreh.” Marco finally leaned in all the way to kiss her in earnest but she turned around facing back towards the horses, “I am afraid.”

  


“Don’t be.”

  


She smiled like she’d expected his response, “I am afraid you will fall in love.” She looped her arm over his neck, “All men fall in love with me because I always leave them. And there is nothing men love more than something they can not have.”

  


“I promise I won’t.”

  


“I will hold you to that, Marco Polo.” In the privacy of Marco’s tent they moved as one, kissing, touching, caressing, groping. “What’s your hurry?” She asked, breaking their kiss.

  


“The sun will rise.” He held her hand in his and pointed to the sky which was visible through the hole in the ceiling which acted as skylight and ventilation all in one moment.

  


“Ah.” She nodded in understanding, pushing him down onto his bedroll and removing her clothes, slowly as she did everything else. Each movement was accompanied by the ringing of the bells attached to her person, the bells on her belt tingled as she removed it and it hit the ground with the echo of ringing. Slowly, slowly she removed her top and crawled onto his body, splaying out her hair over his eye line. “There, now you will never know the time of day.”

  


Her hair was a different texture in his hands, her soft breasts a welcome novelty although he did enjoy the hard lines of Jingim’s body, her skin smooth, free from the battle scars and sword wounds that littered Jingim’s frame. She pulled off all of his clothes and then pulled off the rest of her’s like it was a dance, slowly as always and with the same hypnotic presence as a snake charmer. When she was ready she sunk down onto him and Marco let out a shuddering breath at the sensation.

  


“I could do this forever.” Marco sighed.

  


“We don’t have forever.”

  


“We have tonight.” Marco smiled up at her, “And that can feel like forever when I can not see the passing of the light.”

  


“Then I suppose we have forever.”

  


They moved as one after that and it only occurred to him halfway through the deed that he was doing the exact thing that Jingim had been angry at him for. It was a bit late to take it back, Marco told himself as he continued to thrust up into her, his gasps being swallowed up by her mouth. Her mouth kissing hot lines up his chest and on his neck and in his mouth until the moment when they both went over the edge, shaking and holding each other and so so tender. So different from Khutulun’s roughness, different from Jingim even although he couldn’t place exactly why.

  
  


They lased for a bit, harsh pants evening out to more shallow breaths and Shorah ran her hand across an old scar on his arm, “You are a very interesting man Marco Polo. I can see why the Khan keeps you so close. How did you end up in his service?”

  


Marco didn’t speak for a moment, thinking of a way to answer whilst his mind replayed the moment his father had abandoned him, “I was a merchant. Like my father before me.”

  


“So you travelled with your father?”

  


“We travelled The Silk Road and we saw many wonders of the Mongol Empire.”

  


“And you chose to stay and serve the Khan instead of leave with your father?”

  


“ _ I wish. _ ” He turned over to face the ceiling, looking away from the singer, “I know I said we have forever but you’ve moved and now I can see the light peeking through. Perhaps our forever is over for now, and sleep draws near.”

  


“Sleep we shall. And if you ever want to tell me the full story of how you came to be here, I will listen.”


	13. Youth Goes; I Am In Bed Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My _mother_ was a Christian.”
> 
> “Yes, Sire but you are not. You are unbaptised in the Church and so the Pope sees you as an enemy.  
> An enemy to the Pope is an enemy to God.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS This is all just stuff for the story, if you looked at it from a historical and/or geographical standpoint it's definitely very incorrect but then again, so is the show so who cares.
> 
> Also I know there are two definitions of sodomy one being anal sex between two men and one being any penetrative sex that isn't penis in vagina between anyone of any gender but I'm going with the first definition for the sake of this fic.

Marco woke up to find her staring at him, the morning light illuminating the room in a golden glow that made her look even more beautiful. He sat up and stared back, “You’re staring.” he smiled, paraphrasing her words from yesterday.

“Everyone would stare.”

“So you want to be just like everyone?”

There was an urgent knock at his door, “Master Polo!” A voice yelled from the other side and the two exchanged a look.

“I couldn’t block the light for you forever.”

The knocking continued and so after a moment’s hesitation to look at Shoreh one more time he quickly got dressed, grabbing his sword as he opened the door to see the messenger standing outside unsurely. The man looked passed him at the naked woman on his bedspread and his eyebrow raised, she waved at him smugly and Marco quickly shut it behind him, “What’s the matter?”

“Another horse it would seem. Just like the last one.”

Kublai seemed a bit more worried at the arrival of a second horse but still unconvinced it was Kaidu or his men. Jingim once again put the horse out of its misery once it had been inspected for any other wounds that might serve as a clue as to what or who could have done this.

The letter from Mei Lin stating that Ahmad had brought Nayan and Kaidu into the palace and was attempting to sell her daughter for the price of his army and the support of the Church.

“The Church?” Kublai hissed, “The church will be backing Kaudi, Nayan and Ahmad?”

Marco crossed his arm, bringing his fingers to his chin in thought, “If the Crusaders sided with Kaidu it would mean being able to spread Christianity in the areas of the Mongol Empire that Kaidu would not claim as Mongol. With Nayan around all of China would be free for the taking.”

Byamba countered quickly, “But you forget that that would only work if Ahmad did not plan to become Khan of all Mongolia as my father is now. He wouldn’t let the Pope take charge of the areas he had worked so hard to claim.”

“He must plan to double-cross all of them then, have the united front to take on The Khan, use Nayan and the Church to dispatch of the ‘godless’ Kaidu and then raise a Mongol army to push back the Western Expansion, that would be easy enough to raise an army for.” Jingim proposed, his hair still loose from the early and abrupt wake-up call.

“That’s a complicated plan.” Marco remarked, mildly impressed that he had thought to make such an intricate strategy.

Chabi scoffed, “He’s a complicated man.” She stood, “I must go now, there is much to be done. Ensure that when Ahmad joins us here he brings the assassin and her daughter, it would not do to have the young girl sold to the likes of Nayan.” She quickly left after Byamba, Jingim and the Khan all pulled the same face at her closing statement.

“Not that I would like Ling Ling sold to Nayan but why exactly is that…” He trailed off not sure what else to say to get his question across.

Jingim cleared his throat awkwardly, “Our uncle has a… predilection for untarnished girls, young girls.” 

“He- _Oh_.” His eyebrows shot up, “It makes sense why he is Christian.” Marco pulled in a deep breath as if letting the information wash over him.

“Why would it make sense for him to be a Christian because of _that_?” Byamba asked, eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“A Priest will forgive almost any sin if you are sorry enough. Lying, stealing, adultery, all easily forgivable sins. Even killing and murdering can be forgiven with enough penance.”

Byamba laughed, “I supposed you can afford for everything to be a sin when every sin can be forgiven.”

“Not _every_ sin.” The Venician countered, hand absentmindedly clasping onto his father’s cross, thumb tracing the words inscribed on it. “I know of no Priest or Pope who would forgive treason against a Christian King nor sodomy, all else can be forgiven.”

“That seems like an inconsistent rule, Polo.” The Khan asserted, eyebrow raised. “To pardon murder but not sodomy.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways, Sire.” Marco took a sip from the cup in front of him, surprised to find it alcohol and not water or tea he coughed, choking momentarily in shock and Jingim reached over and patted him firmly on the back. Marco breathlessly thanked the Prince, taking another sip to try and soothe his throat.

“Polo, when you left Venice what was the general thought on a holy war in the East?” Kublai asked, “It’s hard to have a war without support.”

Marco cleared his throat a few more times, his face turning a bit red at the embarrassment but continued on as normal, “Not for the Pope it wouldn’t be. So long as he has the ships he can pick soldiers from any Christian country, those who don’t fight out of their faith to God will fight for the pay it affords and the guarantee that the salary will be paid to their families upon their death for 3 months. But even more than faith and coin the Pope offers any crusader a guaranteed place in Heaven, there is no greater- he _claims_ there is no greater tribute to God, no greater honour, and as such there will be no greater reward.”

“So people were in favour.”

“Yes, people were in favour.” Marco confirmed, a tilt to his head that implied that even that was a bit of an understatement.

“And now, how do you think that has changed since you have left?”

“You have taken down the Song Dynasty Sire, conquered the entirety of South China. Everyone fears you will turn your attention Westward Great Khan they fear your heathen ways.”

“ _Heathen?_ My mother was a Christian.”  
  


“Yes, Sire but you are not. You are unbaptised in the Church and so the Pope sees you as an enemy. An enemy to the Pope is an enemy to God.” He spoke direly, thinking on his time with the nuns in Venice, he quickly tacked on a “Sire.” to try and soften the blow of the information.

“Father…” Jingim said with a frown, “If the Christians were to start marching they could easily enter Mongolia through Nayan's territory. They would be on us before we could properly recall the army to our position.”

“Which position are we referring to?” Byamba asked, “because currently we’re far out of their way.”

“I mean Cambulac. Nayan could bring Christians right to the capital.”

A messenger knocked suddenly and entered, “Great Khan, Vice Regent Ahmad is almost here.”

“He is here?” Kublai asked, “Already?” He added, exchanging a glance with the Empress Chabi.

“He is Sire… I understand I’m also supposed to give you any added information… he has seen fit to bring the concubine- the assassin and her daughter with him.”

Chabi frowned, “He brought Ling Ling here?”

“Yes Empress.”

Kublai nodded, “Thank you for your message, you may leave us.” The man bowed and left and after they were sure he had moved away from the tent the Khan ordered Marco back to his room, “He still thinks he has my trust, he will not like if you were present at a meeting such as this.”

Marco nodded, standing and leaving with a bow and thankfully not running into Ahmad. There was blood in his tent and he held his breath as he crept into the darkness, his fires were out and the light from the sky had faded once again, he drew his sword and turned slowly looking in the darkness for whatever danger lurked and saw Kokachin. “Kokachin?” He lowered his sword.

“Marco I must tell you, she is here! She did this!”

“Who is here?”

“The Blue Princess! She hurt those horses!”

Marco’s head ticked to the side, his confusion palpable, “Who is here?”

“The Blue Princess.” She answered again, confident in her answer.

“Kokachin, who did this?”

“The Blue Princess. She wants it back, her life. She wants it all back. You are my only friend Marco please help me. She will destroy me and The Prince along with me, my child Marco, you must protect him from the Blue Princess!”

Marco pulled her close grabbing her hands only so he could take her hand but before he could do that he saw even in the darkness her hands were covered in blood, he quickly enveloped her in a hug, “Kokachin, the Blue Princess is gone.”

“No she’s here!”

“She’s dead and she’s gone. She will not hurt you unless you let her.”

“She wants it all back! The horses-!”

“Kokachin, look at your hands.” He prompted her softly and she did, because she trusted him with all her secrets and all the things that could destroy her and Marco still didn’t quite understand why it was him she trusted so thoroughly.

“Oh.” She spoke quietly, staring at her bloody hands.

“The Blue Princess is dead and gone.”

“Stay here for one moment.” He quickly ran outside and found one of the ladies in waiting, “Give a messenger to the Empress from me, tell her it concerns The Blue Princess.”

“Yes Master Polo.”

He carried her back to her own tent, everyone else was distracted by Ahmad’s arrival, going through the motions of a proper greeting once again and so the Empress Chabi was called away from the side of the Khan. When she saw Kokachin on her bed, Marco standing off to the side, a concerned look on his face, she knew something must have happened, “What’s wrong?”

“It is her, who harmed those horses.” He pointed at her hands. “You… you know of The Blue Princess?” He asked carefully.

Chabi looked between him and Kokachin as if trying to gauge what it was he knew, “I do.”

“She says it was _The_ Blue Princess. But it is her.”

“The pregnancy, it has affected her.”

He leaned in close to the Empress, “Are you sure it is just that? She seemed quite mad.”

“I’m sure.”

“In Venice… this type of behaviour can be common within women who are laid with against their wills.”

Chabi, carefully guarded expression shifts suddenly, her eyes narrowing at Marco in a way she rarely did, “You know of the pregnancy’s truth.”

“I do.” Marco said carefully, eyes glancing to the door as if expecting guards to rush in and seize him.

Chabi glanced at the young woman who looked at her and called her ‘mother’ and she thought about how if what Marco said was true, her fractured mental state was her fault. “What do they do in Venice? To heal these women?”

Marco looked off to the side before he answered as if he was sure she wouldn’t like his answer,”In Venice everything is based on God. She becomes a nun or she talks to a priest and he absolves her of any wrong doing, any demons that linger. Perhaps The Blue Princess is a ghost, haunting her for her deception.”

“So I must convince her she has done nothing wrong.”

“I suppose so.”

“You were right to call me Polo. You’ve done something that very few people have ever done.”

“I have?”

“Changed my opinion of you.” She said with a smile, “I will care for her personally, word of her state can not get out and I will try and make her realise there is no Blue Princess other than herself.”

“Hopefully that will be enough.”


	14. Some Say An Army On Horseback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I did all this for you you know.”
> 
> “All _what?_ ” Marco yelled back.
> 
> “ _This!_ Travelled the Silk Road, working for the Pope-”
> 
> “And was giving me up for me as well?”
> 
> “For our legacy. The Polo name will go down in history as the people who brought down The great Kublai Khan and the Mongol Empire.”
> 
> “You’re right father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywhere where it is marked <> is when they're speaking Italian. Don't ask me if the rest of their speech is in English or a Chinese/Mongolian language/dialect but whatever they're speaking they can all understand it but the Mongols don't know Italian. 
> 
> Also if they're supposed to be speaking Latin or Vulgar Latin in this time period I'm not gonna correct that, you get it.

Ahmad was quick to settle in and quicker to make his displeasure of Marco’s presence known. Marco as directed steered clear of the Khan and his sons knowing that it would only further antagonise the Vice Regent and ended up spending another night with Shoreh the student of the world. She left just as she had promised she would, smiling regretfully when he said he would miss their time together, “I told you you would fall in love.”

“No offence but I’m not in love, at least not with you.”

“Aaah, another holds your heart?”

“I hold them in my heart but they only hold me in their bed.”

“Bedding someone who does not love you back isn’t a good idea, it will lead to heartbreak.”

“It’s a bit late for that. And I’m not entirely sure if I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice Marco Polo. You are a world traveller, a merchant of Venice, I have seen you sit with the Khan and be welcome at his table, you can choose.”

“And if I choose to keep on breaking my own heart?”

“Then choose it and mean it.”

  
  
  


With the royal family off bounds for the meanwhile Marco went in search of Mei Lin who was dressed up more than she usually was when he saw her and was sitting dejectedly at a mirror. “Marco, the man intends to sell my daughter to a child lover.” She complained as soon as she saw him.

“We saw your letter. Chabi made sure you were both brought here.”

“There’s more than that though, more details to his plan that he told me after I sent the letter. There’s something happening in Kaidu’s land, I don’t know what.”

“Jingim’s heading East.”

“Jingim’s heading into an ambush.” Mei Lin scowled, “He’s already gone? I thought I’d get the chance to tell the Khan all this before he went.”

“I’ll stop him, just keep an eye on your daughter. Run to Chabi if you must, she’s with Kokachin.”

“If someone had told me one day I’d be under the protection of a woman I tried to kill and whose husband I have slept with I would have laughed in your face.”

“So is the fate of a court concubine.” Marco left with a mock salute, grabbing his horse and riding out to catch up with Jingim and his small band of men.

He caught up with him at sun set, Jingim had made good time but even with the small party, the larger group moved slower than Marco did alone. “Jingim!”

“Prince.” The Khan’s son corrected him like he hadn’t done in so long. He spun around on his horse and rode a little distance away from the other men.

“Prince Jingim, you’re riding into an ambush you must go West instead Mei Lin says-”

“Mei Lin. Mei Lin who sneaks into your room at night and sits around like a whore drinking tea with you and schemes with my traitorous brother.” The Prince hissed.

“Mei Lin has helped us, helped _you_. She told you of Ahmad’s plans even though it put her at risk, continues to put her and her daughter at risk. Why would you say that about her?” Marco reeled back, unsure what had brought on the sudden animosity.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Mei Lin? No I told you already I didn’t.”

“Not Mei Lin- The dancer!”

Marco’s eyes widened in realisation, of course someone had seen, of course word had gotten back to the Prince, “I- Yes but-” Jingim turned his horse around and started trotting off once again on the mission his father had sent him on, “Wait Jingim!”

“ _Prince_.”

“You’re riding into a trap. I know you’re angry at me but trust me with this at least.”

Jingim stopped and let out a long and deep breath through his nose. It reminded Marco of a great dragon letting smoke pour out of its nose in an attempt to cool down. He turned to face Marco once more, “What’s in the West.”

“I don’t know.”

“My father The Khan has sent me on a mission to the East and now you tell me I must ride West and you don’t know why except for the words of a whore.”

“I need you to trust me right now.”

They stared at each other for a long time before Jingim finally nodded, instructing his men to follow him back West. He was still angry at the merchant but he wouldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of the truth. The uneven landscape meant that the quickest way back West was not passed the Summer Palace, no one would know where they had gone if it all went wrong, they had gone in the complete opposite direction, only Mei Lin would have a clue and Jingim wasn’t sure if she would be on Kublai’s list of people to consult. He supposed the fact that he was trusting Marco with so much spoke volumes over his anger at the man it certainly spoke louder than his words as he did not say any to Marco the entire time they rode until they came across a camp in the distance and he hushed him quickly, urging them all into the cover of the forests a few metres away. “The crusaders are here!” Marco exclaimed shock colouring his words.

“They must plan to ambush everyone back at Xanadu.” The Prince turned to one of his men, get word back to my father quickly.”

Marco and Jingim both crept closer whilst the other three guards kept their position behind the trees. Marco stopped abruptly, “My father.” He pointed and sure enough there was Niccolo Polo wandering around the camp stopping here and there to have conversations with people but mostly keeping to himself.

“Do you think he’ll tell us what’s going on here?”

The young Venician scoffed, “That’s very unlikely.”

“We should try anyway.”

“Try what?”

“To grab him and question him.” Jingim pulled out some rope, enough to tie his hands and thick enough to stuff in his mouth and muffle any sounds, “It’s worth trying.”

Marco glanced at his father once again, “If you say so.” They crept closer until they were standing on the other side of a tent, the European tents were usually square or rectangular so it was easier to come around the corner and grab him, hand over his mouth and knife to his neck. He seemed surprised when his eyes fell on Marco tying his hands and he tried to say as much when Jingim removed his hand but a quick word from Jingim and the rope was in his mouth without a word from the older man.

He let himself be dragged away quietly, not trying to get the attention of any guards or trying to run away and when Jingim quite roughly threw him on the ground he didn’t complain too much although he did shoot the prince a dirty look. “I’m going to remove this rope, if you cry out I will stab you.” The Prince stated as he moved to start untying the rope around his mouth.

Niccolo shot Marco a look that screamed ‘you’re going to let this guy stab me?’ and Marco just shrugged, “I would prefer _not_ to get caught by the crusaders.”

“It’s nice to see you looking well son.” Were the first words out of his mouth as soon as he could speak.

Marco frowned at the smile his father was giving him, so much like some of their time together on the Silk Road when Marco wasn’t messing things up and his uncle wasn’t annoyed at him and it was just the three Polo men and the wide-open desert and stories of his mother when she was young. As if nothing had changed, as if he hadn’t given up his son at the drop of a hat. He didn’t dignify his apparent concern with a response, instead choosing to focus on the mission, “So you’re working with Kaidu and Nayan.”

“The Pope has a mission, Nayan understands that and Kaidu benefits from it.”

“You’re working for the Pope? Did you _always_ work for the Pope?”

“This was always the plan. Of course getting caught smuggling certainly put a hitch in that plan.”

“You mean almost getting me killed?” Marco scoffed, crossing his arms angrily as he remembered the fact that his father and uncle had almost dragged him down with them by hiding all their stuff in his room.

“It wasn’t me who almost had you killed, it was your _beloved Khan_.” His words were dripping with sarcasm and he sent a sardonic smirk at Prince Jingim when he said it as if rubbing in the fact that the royals had very nearly killed them both.

“It was _you_ who dragged me into your illegal scheme. I can’t really blame the Khan for enforcing the law. You’re not a merchant, you’re a thief and a grifter.”

“<How are you son?>” He asked in Italian, eyes softening.

Marco’s scowl deepened, the change in tone throwing him off slightly, he didn’t reply in Italian choosing to make sure Jingim stayed in the loop, “What’s the plan? To attack the Khan? When?”

“<Tell me how you are.>” He insisted further in Italian.

“<Oh now you care about me?>” This time Marco actually did reply in Italian, stalking forward and towering over the sitting man, hands on his hips.

“<I _always_ cared about you. I still care about you.>”

“<You don’t care about anyone but yourself.>” He sighed, turned around and shook his head, before spinning and punching his father right across the face. “Tell me the plan.”

“Is that how you plan to do this? It won’t work.” Niccolo almost laughed although he stopped to lick his split lip. “<Why don’t you just tell me how you are, what’s life like with The Khan.>”

“What’s life like with the Pope?” Marco shot back.

“<The Pope isn’t quite so personal with his loyal servants as your Khan is.>” Neither said anything for a moment, Marco simply continued to glare at his father whilst Jingim glanced back and forth between them not quite following what had been said and torn between Marco’s need to talk to his father and his own need for answers about the crusader’s plan for his own father. “<I did all this for you you know.>”

“<All _what?_ >” Marco finally responded, almost yelling if not for his need to not be caught.

“<This! Travelled the Silk Road, working for the pope->”

“<And was giving me up for me as well?>”

“<For our legacy. The Polo name will go down in history as the people who brought down The great Kublai Khan and the Mongol Empire.>”

“You’re right father,” He broke away from the Italian language, “the Polo name will go down in history but not as the people who brought down the Khan but as the people who stopped the Western expansion into the Mongol Empire. The Polo name will be remembered because of me, as the man who helped defeat the Pope.”

“You still wear your cross and yet you speak such heresy?”

“You’re the one who said Venice would not take me back as I am but this is who I am now. You don’t know me father, you’ve never known me. You were too busy travelling the Silk Road. I’m fine, I’m good here. I have a purpose, I have friends, I have-” He paused, not daring to even look over at Jingim, his father would surely notice, and he hadn’t even settled his argument with the Prince yet for all he knew after this was over he wouldn’t have whatever it was that they had. 

“Your mother would be sad to see us on opposite sides.”

“My mother would be sad to see you standing against me, she would be sad that you were never there for me. She would be sad that after 3 years you decided fatherhood wasn’t for you. She would be sad that you claim these deeds in her name. You want to call me a heretic? Go ahead but at least I’m not a traitor. Now, tell me what your plan is.”

It had gotten dark in all the time it had taken to travel there and question the elder Polo and still they had o answers but in the end it didn’t matter, there was a sound like the thundering of heavy clouds and a million hooves and frighten wails that echoed through the air, bouncing off the trees and making it impossible to pinpoint the location. “What is that?” The Prince asked, standing to alert and drawing his sword although if whatever was making that ratchet was heading their way their swords would likely be of little help.

“There!” Marco pointed at a faint glow in the middle distance, it flickered and danced around like fire and it took another long moment for them both to realise that it _was_ fire, 98 white stallions set ablaze and all running directly at the camp. Niccolo Polo used the moment of distraction to make a run for it, grabbing a hose and riding down the hill but neither man made a move to stop him, too entranced by the fiery display. “Nesting birds and well-fed dogs.” Marco muttered as he realised what must have happened.

“Father gave up all one hundred horses?”

“He must have.” 

They both watched as barrels of black powder exploded sending the horses and the people into a new frenzied panic, tents went up in flames like matches, the crates of alcohol did too, splattering the area around it in the flammable liquids and creating even more carnage, even the horses themselves created chaos, trampling men underfoot in their desperate attempts to flee the flames that engulfed and surrounded them. 

Niccolo had stolen one of their horses so Jingim pulled Marco onto the back of his horse as they rode to meet The Khan who had finally revealed his position, his small band of men followed. “Jingim, Polo.” The Khan greeted them with a serious nod, he gestured for someone to get Marco a horse and Marco reluctantly let go of the Prince and climbed onto his own horse. "Where is your father?"

"He escaped." Marco looked away, "back to his men."

" _Good_." The Khan growled, "He can burn with them." Decree or just wishful thinking it felt like an order, a sentence from an unforgiving god. Niccolo Polo would die here and now because The Khan had said so and anything else would be an affront. Marco tried to hide the way his hand shook around the reins of his horse. His father had left him, betrayed him, abandoned him and yet Marco did not want to see him dead.

“A Mongol without a horse is like a hawk without wings. The bodies of those mighty mares may burn in those fires below, but their noble souls look down on each and every one of you from the Eternal Blue Sky above. They look down and they demand that their sacrifice not in vain. Ride down there and prove it. All our enemies have joined together so right here and right now we will stamp out their insidiousness for good! Attack! Hyah!”


	15. When The Earth Is Bright With Flaming Heat

Marco hadn’t initially noticed Khutulun fighting next to Byamba and when he did, he assumed she must be there for her father but a moment’s observation showed her clearly fighting on the side of the Khan, killing crusaders and Nayan’s men alike without impunity she only hesitated when her brother turned on her to fight but she did nothing to help him when Jingim in an almost-berserker rage killed Orus and yelled into the sky.

It was difficult to fight, it was difficult to see. Everything was blanketed in a thick layer of smoke and black powder, the sound of yelling and fighting and dying coming from all directions but that didn’t stop Marco from picking out his father in the crowd and even when he thought he’d washed his hands of the older Latin he couldn’t help the way his heart seized in his chest nor could he stop the words coming out of his mouth as he ordered the archers away and told him to go. He couldn't help the look his father levelled at him, a look that stabbed through him and cut deeper than any sword ever could "Come with me!" His father pleaded, holding onto his armour like it was an attack and not the only way he could hold him in the middle of a warzone "We can go together.". He felt sick to his stomach for the rest of the battle, he was oddly numb as he continued to cut his way threw a line of Christians. He could have been one of them, he would have been one of them if not for his father's rash decision. As soon as they had been declared victorious and the adrenaline had worn off, Marco found himself emptying the content of his stomach into the ground hidden in the shadow of a large tent that was somehow still standing despite everything.

Byamba found him a little later dry heaving behind the tent and shaking like a leaf. “Polo? Are you alright? Have you been stabbed?”

“No- no, I’m alright, I’m alright.” Marco insisted frantically, weakly pushing the Mongol away as he tried to check him over for whatever wound was causing his erratic behaviour. He was pale and clammy and covered in blood and sweat and grime. The ash had settled on his face and in his hair and even passed some superficial battle wounds he looked terrible.

“You don’t look alright.” Byamba didn't let himself get pushed away, continuing his search for whatever wound the Latin must be hiding. 

“My father.” Marco tried to explain, still feeling like he couldn't breathe.

“Oh.” Byamba shifted, he stopped his search, his tone conveying understanding but his conclusion couldn't be more wrong, “You killed him.”

“ _No_.” He shook his head erratically, taking a huge gasp for air, when did it get so hard to breathe, “I let him go.”

“So you _saved_ your father, why is that such a source of distress?”

It was Khutulun who ended up answering, coming up behind them both and wiping her bloodied sword on her battle skirt, “It’s a hard thing to face; knowing your father is not who you thought he was. Knowing he's a disappointment. Knowing that even if you’re doing the right thing you’re still betraying your father.”

Marco nodded in agreement, gladly taking the water skin she offered, “You switched sides?” He eyed her up, not quite suspiciously, he of all people could appreciate a change in allegiance, even against family.

“My brother and I were waiting to the East for Jingim to come like Ahmad said he would. We were supposed to kill him, our own cousin, I was against it, I wasn’t sure I could go through with it but my father had ordered it. And then my brother gave me the only good piece of advice he ever has and ever will give; blood does not come before duty. He _meant_ I should kill my cousin because our father commanded it but I couldn’t. The Khan has already forgiven my misdeeds, and my brother-” She went silent cutting herself off, they all knew what had become of her brother, they had all seen Jingim kill him. “He chose his side.” She nodded, accepting the lots she had been dealt.

“My father, he chose his side too.” Marco agreed, trying to come to the same acceptance she had but feeling like he hadn't quite managed it.

“Then you need to choose your side as well Polo. Choose and mean it.”

“You're the second person to say that to me this week.” Marco laughed, finally standing up straight and feeling like he had his breath back.

“That must be a sign that someone out there wants you to pick your side and stick with it. Maybe it's that God you care so much about.”

If only it were that easy. He was loyal to the Khan that was simple to choose and he loved Jingim that too was an easy choice but with every complication, every traitorous father and hypnotic dancer and the clashing of his old life with his new and the weight of stifling rules, his easy choices seemed to crumble away to ruin and good intentions.

At least he had calmed down and stopped dry heaving. The three joined the main force and Marco couldn’t help but notice Jingim relax when their eyes locked. The Prince was worried, worried he hadn’t survived the battle. Despite everything that had happened, at least he still cared.


	16. All My Heart Longs To Accomplish, Accomplish.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jingim scowled, “All we have to do is get the Khan to tell the army not to listen to Ahmad and then he will have played his hand.”
> 
> “Except”, Khutulun interjected, drawing everyone’s attention to where she stood behind Byamba, “The Khan is supposed to be at the Kurultai very soon which is in the complete opposite direction.”
> 
> Byamaba's eyes widened, “You have to forfeit one.”

In the mad shuffle of battle Ahmad had left. He’d taken half the Khan’s already fractured army and he’d started back to Cambulac. Mei Lin was found holding her daughter and hiding in Marco’s tent, a bruise forming on her cheek that looked suspiciously hand shaped. “He wants to take the capital.” She explained once the usual group of Kublai, Chabi, Jingim, Byamba and Marco had gathered, although this time Khutulun was there too, standing in the back and messing with her sword. 

Jingim scowled, “That will be hard to do, all we have to do is get the Khan to tell the army not to listen to him and then he will have played his hand.”

“Except”, Khutulun interjected, drawing everyone’s attention to where she stood behind Byamba, “The Khan is supposed to be at the Kurultai which is in the complete opposite direction.”

They all paused as the reality settled in for all of them. “You have to forfeit one.” Byamba clarified. “You either let Ahmad take the city but remain Khan or you lose the Khanate but keep the capital.”

“There is no Capital without the title.” Kublai growled.

Chabi shook her head disapprovingly, “You will lose the _power_ of being a Khan without your city and without your palace.”

“I can not do both, wife.”

“You won’t have to, father.” Jingim nodded solemnly “Byamba and I will go to Cambulac and stop him. You must be there for the vote. The army will listen to us, we’re your sons and I’m your heir.”

Kublai shook his head sadly, “Sending two of my sons to do battle with my other son. All whilst I go to war with my cousin for the title and my uncle and his Church. Everything is at stake and all because of my own family people I trusted. The love of one’s child is sacred. Kaidu understands many things.” They all stared at him as he seemed to stare off into space, not quite knowing where he was going. “The world gets bigger, so you open your arms wider. Is that not the Ghengis way? You let in the outsiders, with their sad eyes and wounded hearts, the orphaned son, the abandoned boy, you let them in your home, learn from them? Yes, but raise them and love them? Offer them all the magic the whole world has to offer? They _fuck_ you.” Everyone in the room exchanged looks with each other, at first glance he just seemed sad about Ahmed, about Kaidu, about Nayan but there was something else under all of that that no one could quite understand. “ _Oaths?_ Meaningless. Love in their eyes, worthless. Heart they promise you, will never be. Oh, they’ll stare, plead. Love mixed with awe mixed with coquetry mixed with an insatiable _festering_ need. Need of a home, need of a father,” Marco’s eyes widened, his face felt hot. Of course the Khan would know. Of course this was about him. Kublai had decreed Niccolo die on that battlefield and Marco had gone against that, had helped free an enemy of the opposing side. Jingim didn’t know what had happened but it was hard to miss the way Byamba and Khutuln both glanced at their resident Latin and when he spared a glance for himself and saw the colour drained from his face he knew something must have happened. “need of a _fucking_ place in the world. Give them all of this and more and what do they do, they scurry back to their dubious relations despite their meager characters that lack entirely of heart.”

Marco had only just gotten his breath back and he had already lost it again, “Great Khan-” He started, unsure what he would even say but needing to say something. Whether to defend himself from this indirect attack or simply to beg for forgiveness Marco didn’t know. He never got a chance in the end.

The Khan barrelled onwards with his speech like Marco hadn't even spoken, “Blood protects blood. To the detriment of the very oath they’ve sworn to.” He growled.

Khutulun, suddenly very aware of her status, took a cautious step towards the door, backing away from the table ever so slightly. Marco stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. Chabi looked like she was one second away from intervening, even though nothing had even happened yet, there was a charged atmosphere in the air. All the betrayals compounded by Marco’s actions, proving Kaidu right without even trying. “Can we speak, Sire?” Marco almost whispered, his shaking hands hidden behind his back.

“Kaidu knows.”

“Knows what father?” Jingim finally intervened, trying to verbally get between Marco and the Khan's fury.

“The worthiness of strangers can be nothing more but eventual deceptors, betrayers, and ultimately traitors!”

Marco lowered his head. He’d been accused of being a traitor before but all those other times he’d never actually betrayed anyone. This time he’d betrayed his oath as one of the Khan’s oathmen, he’d betrayed the Khan for his father. Everything the Khan was saying was correct, he had chosen his blood over his oath and his only defence for his actions was that it was his blood. Kublai who had killed his uncle for his betrayal, who had killed his own brother would not see Marco’s own lapse in judgment for anything other than betrayal and Marco honestly couldn’t blame him but even then, even when his excuses were weak and his words would mean nothing he still needed to explain himself.

Byamba leaned into the table, “He’s his father, Great Khan. You can’t ask him to stand by and watch him be killed if he can help it.”

“But I _did_ ask, I ordered even and he disobeyed! He disobeyed _me_.”

Jingim frowned, “You never actually ordered Niccolo Polo’s death. He did not burn in the fires, that is what you wished for and it did not come to pass.”

“Khutulun, you’ve come all this way to betray your father, what say you on the matter?”

“I betrayed my father because I could not stand by and see my cousin killed," she nodded towards the prince, "especially not by my own hand.”

“And yet it is well documented that you did nothing when Jingim killed Orus, your brother who I can only assume you are much closer with than your cousin.”

She glanced at Byamba, stepping out from behind him and unsheathing her sword. “I have sworn my loyalty to you. I would kill for you," She presented it to him and he took it, placing it on the table unceremoniously, "I would die for you Great Khan but if anyone else apart from Prince Jingim had tried to kill my brother, I would have intervened.”

“So blood trumps oaths.”

“No, blood and oaths are side by side, equals. If you had directly ordered me to run Orus through with my sword I would have, I wouldn’t want to but I would have done it. If I had had the same opportunity as Polo to let him go… I would have. It is like you say Great Khan, we are fighting family, those who we should be able to trust the most. That trust does not disappear in one moment, that love does not simply go away because we’ve chosen our sides. Saving a loved one does not mean betraying an oath.”

Chabi nodded, “This war has been hard on us all husband, perhaps you should think more on the matter on the way to the Kurultai.”

The Khan half scoffed, half laughed, “ _You’re_ advocating for the Latin? I thought you didn’t like him.”

“He has won me over. As he seems to have won over everyone here at this table. Do not make a decision now that you may regret later.”

“Mmmm.” He glanced around the room as his wife, his two sons and even Khutulun seemed to all urge him not to be too harsh with Marco and Marco who had his eyes fixed on his feet, a strange pale taking over his already pale skin. With his _sad eyes_ and his _wounded heart_ Kublai couldn’t help but heed their advice for now until his temper had cooled and the fresh wounds of betrayal had healed just a little, “Leave us.” He gestured to the door with his head and Marco left without another word, catching Jingim’s eye as he did so and having some kind of unreadable silent conversation in the second it took to pass him. He took a deep calming breath, refocusing on the main problems and not on his hurt feelings, “Jingim, Byamba, you will take Hundred Eyes. Khutulun you will come with me as a public show of your new loyalty. Darling wife, is Kokachin fit to travel?”

Chabi hesitated, the girl had been better, had stopped seeing the real Blue Princess so much, had stopped hearing the voices but it wasn’t altogether gone. If they travelled there would be more chances for people to see her slipping grip on reality and reveal herself as one of common blood. More chances to reveal the true status of her child and Chabi’s part in the deception. “In a carriage, yes. I will be in the carriage with her.” Kokachin had to come, as a symbol of their continued dynasty, her being pregnant in time for the vote was Chabi’s entire plan, it’s what she had done this all for, she couldn’t afford not to bring her along now.

“Then it is settled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo guys writing this chapter gave me a chance to actually dig down into Kublai's speech and it got me thinking so I'm going to direct you to my tumblr for my fan theory/headcanon that I don't actually want to be true because it doesn't fully feed into my ships and would also majorly suck for Marco tbh. If you read it and have a tumble log in leave me a little comment or reblog to let me know you came from here!
> 
> https://marvelthalia.tumblr.com/post/644130134141648896/fan-theory-that-kublai-khan-was-in-love-with-marco


	17. My Tongue Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who knows?”
> 
> “Myself, Kokachin and Marco.”
> 
> “I now know and Khutulun knows and the circle will not get any bigger than this.”
> 
> “Ahmad knows.” Khutulun added, “He’s the one who informed me.”
> 
> Chabi frowned, “He could tell Jingim. If he finds out what I’ve done-”
> 
> The Khan sighed, “Ahmad must die sooner rather than later and Polo-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure Marco's oath on that necklace was a S2 thing but I forgot about it so just know that that happened in this AU but Marco and Kokachin have not slept together in this universe, although Khutulun and Marco have.

Jingim left as soon as the meeting was over and he instantly found himself in Marco’s tent hugging him tightly. The Latin’s eyes were red like he’d been crying and Jingim wished he could soothe it all away but he could not. “It will be okay," He tried anyway, "my father will understand.”

“But he’s right! It _was_ a betrayal.”

“But he will understand.” Jingim insisted, cupping his cheek in his hand and wiping the traces of the tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“You… you’re not angry at me?”

Jingim sighed, “I don’t know what to do with you. You slept with that girl, that much I know. Why?”

“Because I was lonely.” Marco answered truthfully.

Jingim frowned softly as if he didn’t quite understand Marco’s answer, “Do you love her?”

“I don’t.”

“Do you want more from me? Need more from me?”

“I will take whatever you give.”

“But it’s clearly not enough, if you go running off with that dancer.”

“She was easy, simple.” Marco shrugged, not sure what else to say about her. She had been like a dream, a refuge for all of his problems, someone who didn’t know of his past and who would read into his future what she wished with only the information he provided, a fellow student of the world, a young traveller caught between many worlds.

“ _ You _ are simple.”

“ _I supposed I am_.” Polo grumbled, and he didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter. 

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Jingim squealed indignantly, “Do you not want me?”

“That’s not the problem.” Marco almost scoffed at the absurdity of the suggestion.

“Then what is? Do you think I don’t want you?”

“I know you must! Or you would not keep coming to me, you are the prince, you could kill me if that was your desire!” He echoed Hundred Eyes’ words from so long ago, when Marco and Jingim had fought in his dojo and held blades to each other's throats as the old man watched on without flinching. 

“Then I do not understand the problem! I did not mean that  _ you _ are simple, I meant that  _ we _ were simple.”

“It is often simple between a royal and his _whore_!” Marco finally out and out said it, the words he’d been bottling up for months, the things he would never dare utter to anyone but Mei Lin, the words he could barely bring himself to admit in his own head yet out loud to the Prince and now here he was all but yelling it, his voice lower than he wanted it to be only because he knew the tents were not soundproof and there were many soldiers milling around outside.

Jingim reeled back as if he had been struck, “You-” He suddenly seemed very pale, a very vital piece of information finally falling into place for him, “You didn’t do all of _this_ just because I said so, do you? Just because I’m the prince?”

“I… not fully.” Marco admitted, his words stilted and awkward. The language he’d spent so long trying to perfect suddenly alien in his mouth, the letters hard to form on his tongue.

“Marco… you know you’re not a whore, it’s not like that, I-” He had thought the _‘I love you’_ s would come soon enough. Marco loved to talk, loved to make poetry of the mundane and yet the soft words and whispered confessions had been few and far between when they weren’t in the heat of the moment. It dawned on the Prince that whilst he may have thought it all in his head he’d never said any of it to Marco, he’d staked his claim upon him, taken him to bed. He had treated him like a royal concubine. The overheard conversation between Marco and Mei Lin finally made sense. They had become friends because she had coached him in the escort art, because she had been the one he had turned to when Jingim hadn’t stepped up. He had assumed Marco felt the same way but to discover that Marco was only with him because he was the prince was like he had taken his heart in his hands and squeezed until it exploded.

“...I’m not?” The shyness in Marco’s question seemed so wrong on the usually brash Italian, he had never been scared to speak his mind to Jingim before, even when they had been enemies. Marco was supposed to be easy.

“No. Never.”

“So what- I don’t understand-” Marco couldn’t seem to get the question out the way he wanted. If he wasn’t a concubine, then what was he? What was this?

Jingim wanted to stay and talk it all over more, answer whatever question it was that Marco was struggling with, fuck him into his bed roll and know he meant it but before he could even guess what the question was Byamba burst in, “Father wants us on the road within the half hour.” he patted Marco on the back, assuming the tense atmosphere was from his father’s rant, “Don’t worry Marco, he’ll come around. Just try not to get on his bad side during the Kurultai, me and Jingim won’t be around to rescue you and Chabi’s busy with the Blue Princess.”

Jingim followed Byamba out, sparing one last glance and Marco and one last word, although not the words he wanted. “Look after Kokochin and the baby for me?”

“I will.” Marco promised.

Jingim and Byamba were packed and on the road in 20 minutes. The Khan’s camp took considerably longer to get packed up but soon enough they too were on their way to the Kurultai. Marco took Byamba’s warning and Jingim’s promise to heart, riding behind the Princess's carriage instead of with the Khan like he usually would. The cross around his throat suddenly felt like a noose, the bible close to his chest like an arrow through the heart. If Kublai had thought of it, Marco was sure he would have called him a Judas. If the Pope could hear his thoughts he would call it blasphemy for implying the Khan was Jesus.

*** * ***

The chieftains all stared at Khutulun as she rode side by side with the Khan, he smirked at Kaidu as they passed him and exchanged a look with one of the chieftains whose town had been slaughtered by Kaidu’s men under the banner of the Khan. His treachery had been publicised, Ahmad’s bold move to occupy the capital meaning that he no longer had to creep around the topics of betrayal in the eyes of the public.

Chabi, Khutulun and Kokachin sat with the Khan and Kaidu’s mother sat with her son, no one else by his side with Nayan and Orus dead and his daughter sided with his enemy. They exchanged barbed insults and heated words as the momentous event was introduced and then stated their ideas and plans for the future, linking it back to a quote by Ghengis at every stage. Marco stayed very much out of his way but trailed the Blue Princess like a shadow, for which she seemed grateful for, sending him encouraging and friendly smiles. Even the Princess had been won over by Polo, it seems everyone close to the Khan liked him, then again it had been Kublai who had liked him first.

The day went by quite easily, apart from worrying about his sons and his city with Kaidu’s actions against the Mongol’s it was a simple choice for the chiefs to agree to vote for him to remain Khan, which was why he was surprised when Khutulun arrived with a note for her father from the messenger hawk that had sought her out instead.

Her hand shook as she handed it to Kublai but she had sworn her loyalty to him, had already admitted that her oath didn’t stand up to the test of blood and had slaughtered a town of people on her father’s orders. “It was meant for my father, Sire.”

“And it came to you?”

“Ahmad does not know about me, I was my father’s right hand man, it was my hawk.”

“Have you read the letter?”

“I will not speak a word of it to anyone Great Khan, I swear it on my life.”

Kublai paused in his unfurling of the letter, what could it say to have her swear herself to secrecy. He opened it slowly and she watched as he read it, stepping back as if worried he would lash out at her and shoot the messenger. Kokachin’s children were not Jingim’s. The heirs were not of his blood. And Chabi had done been responsible.

It made sense. His son had many wives and many women and not one of them had fallen pregnant, of course he wouldn’t suddenly have potent seed because of a fourth wife. Chabi knew her duty, she had done a hard thing and she had kept it from him. Pregnancy was women’s business after all, he’d been so busy he hadn’t stopped to think about it, just rejoiced with his son when the news had reached him. It made sense now why Chabi was so insistent on keeping Kokachin quiet and alone, and why Marco trailed after the two of them like a lost puppy. They all knew. And now everyone but Jingim and Byamba knew. The child was not Jingim’s.

“Has anyone else read this letter?”

“No Great Khan.”

“Until I can be sure you will not say anything to anyone, you will follow me like a shadow.”

She nodded, relieved, “You won’t…?”

“Kill you? I could, but Chabi has made a good point that I should not make rash decisions I will regret. My son loves you and you are your father’s only child.”

“When we are married our children will be heirs of my father’s clan and allies of yours.”

“When you are married, _you_ will be my heir. Your father will likely be dead. He did betray everyone after all, that much at least I can decide upon now.”

“I do care about your son. Very deeply.”

“I know.”

“I won’t betray him, not again.”

“I know. But humour me all the same, people closer to me than you have stabbed me in the back.”

He called Chabi to him, showed her the note and watched her read it. She kept her eyes on the piece of parchment long after her eyes had finished scanning it and she looked up slowly. “I’m sorry. I had to do something.”

“It’s alright. You did a hard thing, you did this for us. You were right, it is quite clear that our son is not the child siring type.” She breathed a sigh of relief at his calm acceptance of her deceit. “Who knows?”

“Myself, Kokachin and Marco.”

“Marco?”

“Kokachin is… not well, the pregnancy has affected her mind. She is worried about her place in this family. Marco it would seem is her friend.”

“Marco is everyone’s friend, isn’t he.” It was less a question and more a biting remark.  “I now know and Khutulun knows and the circle will not get any bigger than this.”

“Ahmad knows.” Khutulun added, “He’s the one who informed me.”

Chabi frowned, “He could tell Jingim. If he finds out what I’ve done-”

“He will have to accept it. He will hate it but he will have to or risk never having an heir. Ahmad must die sooner rather than later and Polo-”

“Husband-”

“Polo should go back to Venice. That is his home, I’m sure he misses it.”

“You would send him to the West with information that could destroy us?” Chabi frowned, “He has proven himself loyal to this family time and time again-”

“He has proven himself loyal to his own family. I will not have him in my kingdom! I have decided.” He waved Chabi silent and she fell quiet, not happy with his decision but deciding it wasn't a world breaking one, and certainly not an issue she would put her neck on the line for. At least he wouldn't be dead, he would simply be home.

*** * ***

Kublai called Marco into his tent next, Khutulun was standing outside by the door, despite his decree that she remain in his sight until he was officially named Khan again he wished for a moment alone with the Latin. “Great Khan.” How bowed low, getting on his hands and knees in a way he rarely did nowadays.

“Stop grovelling Polo. It doesn’t suit you.”

Marco stood carefully, shifting from foot to foot.

“Sit.”

Marco sat across the table without a word, looking anywhere but into the Khan’s eyes.

“Anything to say?”

“I’m sorry. You’re right, it was a betrayal and I have no other defence except that he’s my father.”

“My men tell me he wanted you to come with him.”

“He did.”

“So why didn’t you go with him? He is your father.”

“His plan is to bring about the destruction of the Mongol Empire in the name of the Church. If he succeeded, he would kill you, Jingim, everyone in the court.”

“I’ve almost had you killed more times than most. Surely my death would please you?”

“No! No of course not! I swore a pledge to you and I swore it not out of fear but because I am loyal to you.”

“In recent times I’ve taken people’s loyalty for granted, assuming it in places it was not. You will go back to Venice. You will not utter another word about Jingim, his wife and his heir to anyone ever again.” he reached under the table and pulled out a golden tablet, “This will give you safe passage along the route Europe, after that I’m sure you’ll find your way as you often do.”

“You’re sending me back.”

“I am.”

“Right now?”

“Do you have something better to do?”

Marco was silent for a moment, staring at the golden tablet that Kublai was still holding out, “I never got to tell Jingim…”

“I will give him a message when he returns.”

Marco looked up at him, a look that said he wanted Jingim to get some message but did not want to utter it to his father. He shook his head, “Mei Lin and Ling Ling, they will be okay?”

“They are under Chabi’s guardianship and my protection.”

“And Kokachin, the Empress is looking after her?”

“So she claims, I have not seen her. I suspect that was on purpose.”

“And Khutulun-”

“Go Marco. These people are not your concern. These people are not your people. Go home and return to your father and if your oath really means that much to you, do not give him the information that would destroy us. I am taking a big risk not just killing you and burying all our secrets along with you.”

“Open the gates to outsiders, secrets will spill.” Marco suddenly found himself saying, although why he chose this exact moment to quote everyone who had ever been against him he could not say.

“Take the tablet, Master Polo. Go home.”

Marco picked up the tablet and looked between it and the Khan, his sad blue eyes once again piercing. He reached around his neck and took off two necklaces. “For you.” He handed back the tooth necklace, the one on which he had sworn his oath. If he wasn’t the Khan’s foot soldier anymore, he didn’t deserve the necklace. “And for Jingim.” He handed over his silver cross. The only thing he had of his father and his life before but if he was going, he would have all those things he had missed back. He stood and bowed, leaving as the Khan had ordered him to.

**_Go home_ **

Venice had been his home for 17 years and yet now the idea of returning seemed alien.

**_Go home_ **

Was _this_ not his home now? Had he not made a place for himself here?

**_Go home_ **

Would his home still accept him? Would it still be home?

He said goodbye to Khutulun at the door of the Khan’s tent.

“Goodbye?” She asked, confused.

“I have been sent… home. To Venice.”

“Oh. I will miss you Polo. As will Byamba.”

“Tell him… tell him…” Tell him what? What could he say to sum up the depths of feeling his friendship had brought. How could he convey everything Byamba had done for him. His lip quivered and Marco cursed himself, it hadn’t even been one second and he was already close to tears. “Tell him 'thank you'.”

He sought out Kokachin next and Chabi permitted him inside her tent. He held Kokachin’s hand as he told her he’d be leaving. “You’re running away?” She asked, “Without me?”

Chabi sent them both a sharp look and Marco did his best to ignore it. “No I’m not running, The Khan has sent me to Venice.”

“So you will be going home. You are very fortunate. I can never go home.”

Marco’s shoulders fell. She was right of course, there were people whose homes had been destroyed, destroyed by the Khan even, and yet he was going home, to the strict nuns at the orphanage, and his aunt who never really wanted him and his father who always found a way to let him down. He kissed her hand softly, “You will be okay. The Empress will take care of you. You must watch out for Ling Ling and the boy Emperor and for your baby. And you must look out for Jingim.”

She looked deep into his eyes and it was like she was staring into his soul, she leaned in, bringing her face out of Chabi’s eye line and whispered to the Latin. “Have you told him you love him?”

Marco reeled back, his heart rate spiking. “I- no. Of course not Kokachin-”

“I will tell him for you.” She nodded, a small smile on her face, one of pity and understanding.

“I-” Her hand over his was the only thing keeping it steady, “Thank you.”

He said goodbye to Chabi and she made no comment about their apparent plans to run away together nor did she enquire as to what Kokachin was talking about. She even seemed sad to see him go as she patted him on the back and wished him good luck on his journey.

Marco packed. He had his journal and his quills and his half-empty pot of ink and his Bible and his sword and a change of clothes. He grabbed a few salt cakes and wished he could have said goodbye to Hundred Eyes who had taught him and trained him and educated him in the ways of the Khan when no one else had. He found his horse, returned to the stables after all the chaos and he set out back home. The golden tablet felt heavy at his side.

He rode well into the night and it was only when the sun started to rise did he see it. An army.


	18. I Am And Dead - Or Almost I Seem To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You want to re-earn my trust?”
> 
> “I do.” Before he had just been leaving, now he would be wandering into his own death. But the Khan wanted a show of loyalty and show him, he would.

The army was made of all foot soldiers and from their silhouettes their number was hard to discern but he could see their leader, bearing a cross and standing clear and apart from the rest in the centre. He considered going to them, he was on his way home after all and they would certainly help a lost merchant in the Mongol deserts but they were marching straight for the Khan and for Kokachin and Mei Lin and Ling Ling.

He turned his horse around and rode back to the camp finding the Khan in the morning at his crowning ceremony when the vote was ratified and his title was officially reinstated. They all seemed shocked when he burst into the camp on horseback, “Great Khan! An army approaches! From the South, all on foot. It’s crusaders!”

“How many?” He growled, as conversation instantly erupted.

“I could not see their numbers, it was dark.”

Kublai turned to Kaidu and he held his hands up in surrender, “This was not my doing. I was not informed of this.”

“Everyone to arms! Riders, scout out this army! Set up the fortifications! Call the Mongol horde from all surrounding areas to our position! Get the women and children to safety via the long way back to the Capital to the East!” The Khan barked a series of orders and his soldiers almost fell over themselves getting them all done, riders and scouts heading out in all directions.

Thankfully the scouts reported that the Christian army had set up camp. They had been marching by foot across the desert and were resting before the inevitable battle which gave the Khan more time to move all the pieces into place, the forces of his army were called towards them, the women sent away. The chieftains in the area all called in their own men, weapons and horses were brought in too, Christian scouts were picked off so they would neer have a clear number of their enemy. And Marco helped, rushing around to ensure they would all be in the best position to fight and Kublai watched him closely as he assigned helmets and horses to men and helped the children into the carts. Kokachin hugged him as she left with Chabi, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. 

Kublai called him towards him as the day wore on. He handed him back his crucifix which he took hesitantly, confusion clear in his expression. “You want to earn my trust?”

“I do.”

“You will go to the christians, convince them to permit you to enter their camp and from that moment until we fight you will wreak havoc upon them and weaken them from within.”

One of the generals frowned, “Surely they will doubt his loyalty to their faith.”

“Not if I have this.” From under his armour he pulled out his Bible and held it up. It was abridged and it had seen better days having trekked across the desert and the ice and across the sea but it was a Bible, marked with the letters from the nunnery back in Venice. He slotted the Bible back into his armour.

“You just carry that with you?” The Khan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Marco suddenly felt oddly defencive, “You welcome all faiths in Cambulac. And it is my last line of defence against an arrow to the heart.” He thumped his chest right over his heart and the dull thud of the book could be heard instead of his own skin. He glanced off in the direction of the camp, “What will you have me do?”

“I will leave that to you.” Marco nodded, holding his returned cross in his hand tightly. He reached into his pouch and handed back the golden tablet. “You don’t want it?”

“I’m going to the Christians. I’m sure my plan would not work if they knew I travelled your lands on your authority.”

He’d already said goodbye to everyone when he had thought he was leaving. Everyone except Byamba and Jingim, before he had just been leaving, now he would be wandering into his own death. But the Khan wanted a show of loyalty. 

The Khan offered him a horse but Marco declined, “I’m an escapee, I don’t have a horse.” He grabbed his knife and pressed it ever so slightly onto his neck drawing a thin line of blood, “And now my life has been threatened, prompting me to run away.”

He set out before he could change his mind. The hash sun bearing down on his already tanned face, his lack of covering soon turning his golden tan to an angry red burn. He barely even had to act when the Christian guards rode out to meet him and he stumbled to his knees, “Water! Please!” he cried out and they obliged him, looking over his odd armour and his silver cross and his golden curls.

“Who are you?”

“Marco Polo.”


	19. Sleep, Darling...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco shook his head sadly, he imagined Jingim in a gondola with him, rowing down a Venician canal, the blue water reflecting off his golden armour creating a rippled reflection on the boat, the Italian sunshine making his eyes sparkle, “He could never come to Venice, not with me.>”
> 
> “” Nicolo frowned, confused.
> 
> Marco almost cursed his slip up aloud, “ __” He repeated, echoing his father’s confusion and hoping to play it off as a slip of the tongue and not the massive Freudian slip that it was. He was so stupid, talking about Jingim with his father, even pretending he was a woman was a bad idea, of course he would slip up. "I meant she _obviously_ I meant-".
> 
> “What have you done?!” Nicolo hissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW / CW Period typical homophobia + inaccurate war camps and Papal battle strategy

Marco let himself be dragged around left and right, have a waterskin shoved in his hand and bread under his nose, let them prod and poke him, inspect his cross, his armour, flick through his Bible, let them talk about him right in front of him like he wasn’t there and then let them summon someone to see him. He was surprised when his father walked into the room and his shock must have shown on his face as he stood up, “Father!” He took an automatic step towards him and then stopped, hesitant, unsure where they stood after the last time they had seen each other.

Nicolo closed the distance for him, enveloping his son in a tight hug. “<I knew I had not lost you, I knew there was still hope for you yet. You’ve come to join us in our war against the Khan?>”

“<I arrived here because I ran from the Khan, he saw me save you and he was not pleased.>” He let them all draw from that statement the conclusion he wanted them to draw, it certainly was the truth although he was sure they would all assume the worst of the Khan.

“<You see son, the Khan knows nothing of family loyalty, of our Christian mercy,>" He directed that statement at some of the other soldiers and holymen standing around watching the reunion, "<Of the sanctity of the bonds that tie together a father with his son. He sees nothing of you and the work you have done for him. He sees nothing of our God.>”

Marco hugged him back, the words tasting like poison on his lips, like venom dripping from his tongue, “<You were right.>”

The priest behind them grinned, stepping towards them and looking altogether too pleased with the way things had turned out, “<God has delivered you back to us to fight alongside the warriors of the Pope in claiming these lands and these lives. You will help us defeat the Khan and show him his hubris is too much, he is but an ordinary man, there is nothing ‘Great’ about him.>”

Marco nodded, “<In all the deserts I managed to come across the one spot where my father was is where He sent me. That must be a sign.>" He turned back to his father, a weak smile on his face, "<This is our chance to put the Polo name in the history books.>”

“<You want to be in the history books boy?>” The priest asked, a little condescending.

Maco nodded again, trying not to rise to the obvious bait, a skill which he had mastered in his first year dealing with Jingim although the Prince would disagree,, “<As the man->" He clasped his father’s forearm in his hand, "<As the _men_ who helped bring down the most powerful Empire in the world.>”

After that it was easy, they asked him questions about the Khan, the camp, the men they would be fighting and Marco told them, warned them, advised them and they lapped it all up with reverence. With Nicolo’s own stamp of approval and the scar still fresh on his neck, they believed him. Of course, much of what he said wasn’t a lie, a lie early on could lead to a problem later but he did not tell all.

Nicolo seemed happy, so sure his son had forgiven him, forsaken the Khan and joined his side. He told him stories of his mother when they were young stories he'd never heard before from anyone; how they met, their wedding, the day he had left and all the promises they’d made to each other that he couldn't remember from when his mother had still been alive. 

He had promised to return to her and he never had. It made Marco boil in anger but he could show none of it, not now so deep in the enemies camp, not to his father.

He spent the next day exploring the camp and he found the chapel easily enough, he found himself sitting in it for longer than necessary just staring at the cross. It had been a long time since he had been inside a church of any kind, there were Christians in Cambulac but there were not any _European_ Christians, not any Italians. Here he could see the influence of home and of the Church, he could feel Rome even in this meager tent in the desert and the priest held a mass and gave communion and ushered him to a quiet corner for confession after. Marco didn't know why he decided to confess his sins but confess he did, he told him of the men he had killed, his extra-marital sex with the 'virgin' warrior princess, of lies he had told to friends and the mark he'd branded his own family; he told all of his sins except one. He could not bring himself to talk about Jingim. Of kissing him, of fucking him, of loving him. He kept that close to his chest, closer to his heart that the cross that dangled around his neck constantly, closer than the Bible he kept under his armour. 

At night he wandered the camp further and he was surprised the Christians had taken some black powder barrels for themselves. Of course Nayan and Kaidu hadn’t kept all of it for themselves but he hadn't expected them to have so much of it here. It was guarded but only by one man, closer to a boy, a 17 year old who seemed much like he had when he’d first arrived in Cambulac. Naive, innocent, a bad fighter. All these elements started the formation of a plan in his mind as he thought about the Khan's own favourite strategy, he'd set fire to horses and sent them running into barrels of black powder, like Ghengis had set fire to birds, the quote of Ghengis' that he remembered most sprang to the forefront of his mind _'Homing birds and well-fed dogs, always return to its masters'_ what was he if not the well-fed dog, the prodigal son returning home. What was he if not the fire bringer, burning pious men to hell?

He stood and spoke to the boy for a bit, he was the eldest man of his family, his father long dead and his younger siblings mostly girls and all too young to work. He wasn’t here out of duty to God but simply because God paid well and someone had to pay for his family. Marco latched onto that piece of information and hoped he wouldn’t have to kill the boy to bring his half baked plans to life. He was a good kid.

He spent the next two days sneaking into the black powder tent through a tiny hole he'd cut in the back, spreading different amounts across the camp in as much of a connected line as he could manage without detection. He splashed alcohol on the tents and he gave as much information as he dared to the men in charge, the generals lapping up his information with an insatiable need, the priests biting at the chomp to absolve him of his sins and perform every religious rite they could manage in the middle of the desert. No one knew the Khan better than Marco, no one else knew how he thought, no one knew how his soldiers operate better than him.

The crusaders were well rested and ready to move and Marco knew that whatever he was going to do, he had to do it sooner rather than later, no one told him specifically when they would be marching, even they weren't dumb enough to do that, but he could feel everyone gearing up for a battle. He'd been to war before, you can always taste the danger in the air, feel the anticipation, smell the tension. They'd be moving soon and Marco had to be ready to make his move.

When he wasn't plotting their collective downfall, he spent time with his father and it was almost like how they used to be, the two of them, travelling the deserts, the Polo boys against the world. It was almost nice. It would have been nice if it wasn’t for the weight on his chest.

He came into this planning to betray them all but he hadn’t expected his father to be here, hadn’t expected to reunite with him so soon after their last horrible encounter. He told him of how things worked in the camp, there were technically two authorities as there often was the true leader and the religious; the priest who was actually in charge of everything sent by the Pope and the Commander who led the men in battle. Without the commander, the battle plans and formations would fall apart so Marco set his treacherous sights on him. Most of the people in the camp were soldiers but there were a few monks and nuns, all trained battlefield medics and standing ready to pray when the fighting began, Marco liked sitting near them, they were quieter than the other men and despite how far he'd strayed from the path they treated him quite nicely, more than just tolerating him from information, they were just nice people. It was at one of these quite sitting moments that Marco found himself staring off into space as he thought about what he was going to do, what bold move he would take and how best to do damage to the crusader’s camp but his father interrupted his thoughts, sitting down with him two cups of alcohol in his hand, it was clear that this wasn't quite his first as he placed one in front of Marco and it sloshed slightly, spilling onto the table. He pointed with his own cup, sitting down heavily next to his son and observing him, noticing his odd mood despite his minor impairment, “<Where’s your head?>”

“<There.>” He answered truthfully. There was no point in lying about it. His thoughts always strayed to Cambulac, how could they not?

“<A girl?>” Marco looked over at his father in shock, it wasn't quite accurate but it was shockingly close. “<I can tell when my boy’s in love.>” He forced the cup into Marco's hand encouraging him to have a drink and offering him a cheery pat on the back and a grin, “<What’s she like? This Mongol girl who has stolen your heart.>”

Marco stared off into the middle distance as thoughts of Jingim filled his mind, he'd been trying to forget about the prince for now but it was all he could think about. “<Beautiful.>”

“<Of course.>” Nicolo nodded, trying to encourage more details out of him.

“<And- and she’s got long silky hair, as black as the night.>”

“<Don’t they all?>” Nicolo laughed, "<That's a dime a dozen here.>"

Marco huffed despite himself, of course he was right, most people here did have jet black hair and they often kept it long but Jingim's hair always shone brighter when he was wearing his golden armours and his red robes, “<She has strong convictions, a strong sense of duty and loyalty, I've been teaching her Italian she's really bad at it," he laughed despite himself, "and she shines golden like the sun and her eyes pierce into my soul and-" He paused realising he was starting to slip into the abstract, "and she’s really strong.>” All his thoughts of Jingim whirled together in a description that barely even made sense but his father seemed amused at his jumbled thoughts, if not a little put off by his choice of words.

“<Strong?>” He looked at his son with a suspicious side-eye, ‘strong’ was not a word often used for women, it was like calling a woman handsome instead of beautiful, it was done but not often.

Marco covered quickly, “<You know these Mongol girls with their warrior Princesses. They train some of the women like men. Horseback riding, archery, wrestling, sword fighting.>”

“<And you miss this girl?>”

Marco didn't want to say yes, not to his father anyways, “<I didn’t get to say goodbye.>”

“<She’s in the camp we’re about to attack?>” Nicolo asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice, he was worried Marco would pull out of the attack if he thought the girl he loved would get hurt.

He shook his head, “<She’s in Cambulac. Or at least she should be.>”

“<You could go there after the Khan is dead. Bring her back to Venice with us.>”

Marco shook his head sadly, he imagined Jingim in a gondola with him, rowing down a Venician canal, the blue water reflecting off his golden armour creating a rippled reflection on the boat, the Italian sunshine making his eyes sparkle, “He could never come to Venice, not with me.>”

“<He?>” Nicolo frowned, confused.

Marco almost cursed his slip up aloud, “<He?>” He repeated, echoing his father’s confusion and hoping to play it off as a slip of the tongue and not the massive fruedian slip that it was.

“<You->” Nicolo started, studying his son in a new light, his head cocking to the side in disbelief. 

Marco stared at him, eyes wide. He was so stupid, talking about Jingim with his father, even pretending he was a woman was a bad idea, of course he would slip up. “< _Father-_ >” He started, trying to explain himself instantly, trying to correct his mistake. He would deny it, it was a slip of the tongue, he could feel the lies springing to his mind, he would spin Nurgui’s tale out to fit his need, he would be in love with a girl to everyone but himself, "<I meant she _obviously_ I meant-">.

“What have you done?!” Nicolo hissed in his half-formed Mandarin, anyone sitting around him would be unlikely to overhear the urgent conversation topic.

“<Nothing!>”

“Marco!”

“<Nothing father! At least… nothing I can’t come back from…>” Marco felt him will power crumbling.

“<I never should have left you here. They’ve corrupted you.>”

“<Father->” Marco tried to get another word in but he was cut off once again by his father’s fretting.

“You must not tell _anyone_.” He insisted again in Chinese.

“You… accept it?”

“<I accept _you_ . I don’t accept _that_ but I trust you when you say you haven’t done anything you can’t come back from. You must not mention this to anyone.”

Marco nodded, reeling at his father’s surprising acceptance of him. Another father might have dragged him out into the open, made him reveal his impure thoughts and actions to a priest, made him do penance; prostrated him before the cross and doused him in holy water. His father protected him from the scorn that he would receive if this got out, now the only scorn he was getting was from his father.

His father was protecting him. His father was protecting him and Marco was plotting against him, involving him unwillingly in a plan that would get him killed. For the first time since they'd met Marco actually believed that maybe Nicolo was doing all of this for him, maybe he really did just want to make a name for the Polo family, for his son, for him.

It made going to bed that night particularly difficult, especially as he wasn’t going to sleep. He couldn't sleep, plans had to come to fruition, it was now or never. He lived or died by his actions that night. Could he really bring himself to kill the soldiers and the priests and the monks and the nuns and the boy guard and his father?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh Nicolo finds out and Marco has a big decision to make about where his loyalties lie.


End file.
